


Blood in the Water

by TessMooreXF



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessMooreXF/pseuds/TessMooreXF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amidst Scully's struggle with cancer, the agents are asked to quietly go undercover in order to investigate a top Mob boss aboard a Cruise Liner. They're also made painfully aware that secrets, longings, and feeling swept under the rug are difficult to maintain in the close quarters of a state room.</p><p>PS - apologies for the less than ideal formatting. This story was originally written and posted to Ephemeral, and is therefore formatted to that site's terribly outdated specifications. At some point, I will get this story properly formatted!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

Syracuse, New York  
March 23, 1997

It felt good, throwing the doors open. It would be the last  
time. It all felt good, dangerous. Thrilling. For once in his  
life, Eric Hill felt invinceable. He'd waited patiently, and  
now his time had come, rewarding him with a power greater than  
he'd imagined. School was already in session - He had planned  
it that way, of course. He'd thought of everything. The brass  
knuckles wrapped around his hands were for decoration, but the  
shining, gloriously deadly weapon in his arms was meant for  
business. 

He knew which class they were in, and walked there on autopilot,  
trembling. His senses overloaded and his body on alert, he was  
unable to walk easily. His scattered thoughts didn't allow him  
to think too much of it. He barely noticed a small Freshman boy  
scurry into a restroom at the sight of him. Eric hunched over  
his weapon in discomfort, but kept his stride purposeful. The  
boy would run to the office to alert the staff. The police would  
be there in 10 minutes. It was of no consequence - He would be  
finished by then. He knew right where they were, tucked away in  
Mr. Brandt's shop class. 'Four birds with one stone,' Eric  
thought, and held back an enraged giggle. That asshole Brandt  
would learn his lesson, too. 

They were there as he expected - the three of them sitting up  
front and center, their garish blue and gold lettermens' jackets  
somehow managing to enhance their well-bred New England looks.  
It wasn't fair. They were always floundering for attention. They  
didn't realize that it was people like Eric who lived in infamy,  
but they would in about five minutes more. He didn't hear the  
collective gasp as he flung the classroom door open, blood  
pounding in his ears while he brandished his weapon. Eric's eyes  
trained on his victims. They were terrified, and he loved it.  
Their hands flew up, meaty faces contorted in fear. He thought  
he heard Jonathan say, "What are you doing, man?" 

"The tyranny is over." Eric whispered, his voice trembling. He,  
very literally, saw red. The look of confusion on the four young  
mens' faces enraged him. How could they not know?

There were no more words as the spray of bullets rained down on  
the young men, their heads bloody pulps while their desks  
splitered around them and their classmates took cover. Eric could  
see the barrel of his weapon releasing the rounds, but couldn't  
feel his finger toggling the trigger, or the long sweep he took  
across the three helpless jocks. He was foggy, lost in the noise  
and action. His heart felt as though it would pound its way out  
through the lattice of his ribcage. He felt alive. 

When he turned, Eric saw Mr. Brandt cowering behind his desk,  
watching in horror. The asshole had the nerve to judge him. It  
wasn't over. "Tell me you're sorry, you son of a bitch!" Eric  
bellowed while he stomped to the desk, still shaking. His rage  
was uncontrollable. "I needed that "A", you asshole. Now you see  
what you've done?"

Mr. Brandt was a typical 'manly-man', though a little on the  
short side, his flannel shirt stretched tight across his barrel  
chest. He was getting along in years, and his wiry beard was now  
more gray than red, resting upon his breast. His eyes shone,  
pleading, behind tasteful wire-rimmed glasses.

"Whatever you would like, Eric." Brandt spoke softly, his hands  
high above his head. "Please just put the gun down. Don't hurt  
anyone else." 

"You've had all the chances you're going to get." Eric's voice  
was suddenly low, but unbelievably threatening. He ignored the  
whimpering and gasping in the tight, cinderblock room. It was  
difficult to breathe. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To  
be told you're a nothing every day of your life? I'm not a  
nobody anymore, Mr. Brandt." 

The long barrell of Eric's gun rested against the older teacher's  
forehead, butting up against the man's flesh as the teen's hands  
continued to tremble. The last thing Brandt saw was the twisted,  
maniacal smile on the usually-quiet young man's face. 

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

New York, New York  
March 24th, 1997

 

"Thank you for watching Channel Seven News at 3. I'm Patricia  
Reid. Tonight, we interview the Mother of the 17 year old boy  
responsible for the bloody massacre at Henninger High School in  
Syracuse just yesterday..." 

"Damn news..." Gene Accardi shook his head, turning to his  
companion for agreement. 

The two men sat slumped, watching with stony-faced countenance  
while the young news anchor retold the sensationalized story.  
Flashes of footage from the special report the day before  
flickered across the screen while she spoke. They were images of  
frightened teenagers fleeing their school. It was a story that  
would grip the nation; At least, until something more disturbing  
came along to steal the attention. It was the way of the world,  
afterall. 

For Gene Accardi and Paul Fuocco, it was simply bad for business.  
Paul's stony, scarred face twisted in irritation at the news  
report. His nostrils flared, and he finally ran an irritated hand  
across his face. The twin knife scars across his cheeks were faded,  
but still marked him as a cliche of his profession. He no longer  
felt them when he rubbed his face, but rather felt them with the  
stares they brought. He was a Capo of high regard, a hard-earned  
made man, and didn't appreciate the attention. He would kill the  
Motherfucker who did it, if only he could find him. 

"Be calm, Paul." Gene's voice floated across the pleasant, floral  
couch. It was Gene's home, decorated lovingly by his wife. He  
turned toward his old friend, straightening his midnight black  
suit and sighing in frustration. "It won't do us any good to get  
pissed. Which associate is responsible for selling the Shit?" 

"I'm told it was Min Yang. Young kid dealin' upstate. Word is he  
wasn't the brightest bulb, Boss." Paul chuckled. "Sellin' the  
shit to a minor..." 

"Fit him for a button." Gene stood, continuing to adjust his  
tailored blazer and smoothing himself down. "Joey can do it. He's  
been lookin' for an opportunity. Tell him he needs to be quick  
and quiet about it. I don't need this to turn into a 'thing'." 

Paul nodded, rising to meet his boss. "Done. Do we need to put out  
an 'ad' for a new associate?" 

Accardi shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. "No worry. I'm  
sure they'll come crawling from the woodwork. When the dope's good,  
there's always someone, Paulie. C'mon, we need to go talk to Max."  
He clapped his trusted Capo on the back, ushering him out of his  
overly-sunny living room. 

 

\------------------------------------

 

J. Edgar Hoover Building  
March 27th, 1997

 

At one time, the view from his office had defined his life. As a  
younger man, he'd sit and stare out his picture windows, reflecting  
on how far he'd come. A large office, on an upper floor; An  
Assistant Director. His many years of ass-kissing finally paying  
off. In his fourties, he'd thought it an honor to sit at the  
coveted desk and tell people what they didn't want to hear. Shortly  
after he turned fifty, he realized he neither enjoyed sitting at  
the desk nor being the bearer of bad news. He deeply wished for  
one more opportunity to roll around through a dirty bust and fire  
a weapon. Sometimes, he felt more like a horse put out to pasture  
than a high government official. 

Walter Skinner couldn't remember the exact day that the sea of  
yellow cabs, the paperwork, and the authority became boring, but  
it hadn't taken nearly so long as he would have guessed. A job  
that had once held the thrill of power now left him mired in the  
evils of government affairs and politics; Not to mention the woes  
of bureaucracy.

Skinner's eyes zeroed in on a single yellow cab, hastily pulling  
to the curb in front of the building's main entrance. For a  
moment, he smiled at the sight of what could only be Dana Scully's  
head emerging from the cab. Agents didn't use the entrance visible  
from Skinner's windows. Perhaps she was running late, or her car  
was in the shop. His amusement fell short when he saw how stiffly  
she was moving. His heart dropped at the thought that she may  
not have felt well enough to drive herself that morning. 

Three years previous, he'd looked Dana Scully in the face and  
found with absolute certainty that she was something special. A  
young woman with her bearing and bravery was rare to behold,  
half soldier and half rebel, but always an utter professional.  
Her defiance of him always left the Assistant Director with more  
questions about himself than her. Sometimes, he fancied that she  
wasn't meant for the life of a wily, scrappy agent. She was made  
to host meetings and be charming, to break through the glass  
ceiling of the J Edgar boy's club. A look at her magnificently  
blue eyes and he was sold, taken. If she were an Assistant  
Director, he could date her. To his unending disappointment, no  
such advancement had been offered, nor would she likely be  
interested. 

Most importantly, a woman of Scully's grandeur and vibrance  
wasn't made to be extinguished under the heel of a terrible and  
painful disease. Try as she might, her fatigue was showing. The  
headaches were a palpable force in the room, their merciless grip  
joined with lurid nosebleeds to be sure that she never forgot her  
burden and potential destiny. 

Her illness had made him a bought man. The price for exposure  
would be death. Whether that death would come from a consortium  
henchman or a petite redhead, he wasn't entirely sure. His  
infatuation with her was, at times, disturbing. His ability to  
suspend reality was downright insane. While his solid grip on the  
hard world may have loosened somewhat, he mused that life without  
a woman to dream about was even more miserable than a life spent  
alone. Dreams were as pleasant a release as any after his  
difficult days. 

"She's a beautiful woman..." He remembered the way the tobacco  
cloud had swirled around the Smoking Man's head one late night.  
Skinner had immediately reminded himself to change the locks in  
his office and spend more evenings at home. "I can hardly blame  
a man such as you." 

"A man such as myself?" Skinner had sneered. 

The older man stood, smothering his cigarette on the bare surface  
of the Assistant Director's desk, his usual defiance of Skinner's  
refusal to keep an ashtray. "A man of... limited options. Such as  
yourself, Assistant Director Skinner. You back out of the deal, and  
I'll make damned sure all her options disappear faster than you can  
find her to try and fix it. I trust I'm making myself clear." 

Skinner had never been a man to be threatened. He'd also never been  
the man well-known for following his heart. The level of risk was  
too much. The Cigarette Smoking Man may have been the Devil, but he  
was right - his options were terribly limited. 

The case would be good for her. It wasn't an X-File. But it was  
another two weeks he wouldn't be forced to remove her from the  
field. He would take the opportunity. She might even enjoy it, if  
he could get Mulder to shut up long enough to see what he was trying  
to do. 

 

\-------------------------------

 

She looked like hell. It was all he could think while she stood  
across from him. It was clear to Skinner that it was not one of her  
better mornings. He didn't think there was an unattractive bone in  
her body, but Scully still couldn't hide the shadows under her eyes  
or the drawn, pinched look of her features. She looked like she was  
ready to lose her breakfast all over the rug. 

He handed each agent a brief across the desk, watching her carefully  
in his periphery. They both glanced over the files quickly, and  
Skinner silently admired Scully's rapt attention on the file. He  
wasn't sure why he expected anything different. 

"The Accardi Family?" Her voice was roughened. Maybe she'd already  
lost her breakfast.

Mulder sighed, and Skinner could feel the tension building in the  
other man. His respect for Mulder and his quest was unwithering,  
but the man really knew how to throw a good, old-fashioned tantrum.  
The agent was writhing in his seat, anxious to voice his opinion. 

"Do you have a problem, Agent Mulder?" Skinner couldn't help the  
annoyance on his face or in his voice. 

"I would only ask why we're being sent. This, very clearly, isn't  
an X-File. I respect that the bureau's Racketeering case against  
Gene Accardi is important, but I fail to see why another agent  
can't take care of it. And, more importantly, why another agent  
isn't better qualified. Agent Scully and I have never worked with  
Organized Crime." He'd been working on his tact. Skinner almost  
laughed as Mulder sat back and casually crossed his legs,  
obviously proud of himself. 

"We need a team inside on the case, and all working partnerships  
in organized crime are busy with other aspects of the  
investigation. You'd also be hard-pressed to find a partnership  
that works better as a cohesive unit as Agent Scully and yourself.  
Besides, I feel it will be beneficial to bring in fresh eyes. A  
charge for Accardi hasn't stuck, and the case has been mounting  
for six months. If we don't get him, and soon, there are going to  
be some issues with statute and jeopardy. A new development in  
Upstate New York has added to the urgency, significantly." 

"Sir?" Scully quirked a somewhat non-functional eyebrow at him.  
Definitely a headache, he thought, then wondered at his worth as  
a human being that he was wagering with himself in regards to her  
health. 

"Syracuse to be exact, and I'm sure you've heard about the school  
shooting?" 

"Kid walked into school high as a kite and picked off a teacher  
and 10 students with his Dad's questionably obtained AR-15. Four  
students and the Teacher died as a result of their injuries. The  
kid himself committed suicide by cop upon exit of the building."  
Mulder shrugged. "Its terrible, but what does it have to do with  
Accardi?"

"Two days following the shooting, a prolific drug dealer, Min Yang,  
was taken out in the classic style - Bound, gagged, and shot point  
blank into the back of the skull. Left to die in a Syracuse alley.  
Word is that he was an Associate of Accardi's, and was selling some  
sort of PCP-laced marijuana. Intelligence confirms that Syracuse  
is Accardi's turf." 

"Killer joints." Scully nodded. "They're highly potent and can  
cause extreme behavior. Have we established a sure connection?" 

"Maxwell Gallo. Consigliere to the Family. He's turned State's  
evidence in exchange for immunity. Gallo's our inside man for the  
time being. He can confirm that Accardi authorized the sale of the  
joints, and he can also confirm that an associate was selling in  
Syracuse. They were not, however, to be sold to minors under any  
circumstances, which would explain why Yang was plugged."

"What's the plan, Sir?" Scully almost looked better, leaning  
forward and listening intently.

"I need you to get to New York. This is an undercover assignment,  
but we're not looking for a confession or an immediate arrest. I  
need you to keep an eye on Gene Accardi and his family. If we can  
prove Accardi is trafficking, we can put him behind bars, get a  
subpeona and search warrant, and work on the rest later. He and  
his wife, and Gallo are getting on a cruise in 2 days, leaving from  
Manhattan. Its a 9 day cruise through Puerto Rico, the Virgin  
Islands and the Dominican Republic. Accardi's gone on four cruises  
in the last six months, all with the same cruise line, and all  
stopping to port in Samana. Intel thinks Accardi's supplier is  
likely based out of the Dominican Republic, considering the  
frequent stops there. 

"I don't want you getting any friendlier with Accardi's family  
than is strictly necessary. Some contact is prudent, since I need  
you to follow them and scope him out for any suspicious activity.  
And keep an eye on Maxwell Gallo. We need to make certain he  
doesn't disappear. The minute they find out he's gone State's,  
he's a dead man. I don't think I have to tell you how easy it is  
to dispose of a body in the middle of international waters." 

Mulder and Scully nodded, waiting for Skinner to continue. 

"Your identities are with Kimberly. Everything you'll need to  
board the ship is included. I will be on standby waiting for any  
updated information. We've arranged with the Security Officer on  
board to supply you with a secure line at any time of need. He  
will contact you once you've checked in. I've also supplied you  
with two bureau credit cards. They've been made out to your false  
identities to allay suspicion, but they're loaded to your heart's  
content. I will tell you that the Accardi's run in only the  
wealthiest of circles. Its imperative that you both maintain  
your cover as such." 

The stupid grin on Mulder's face said it all. He looked as though  
he'd won the lottery. Skinner supposed, in a way, he had. He'd  
never thought the man could be so easily bought. 

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Mulder's morning had started with an exceedingly awkward elevator  
ride. He thought he'd never seen someone look so perfect and  
yet so wrong at the same time. Scully was just coming off of five  
days off, just a few weeks after their debacle with Eddie Van  
Blundht. In spite of her assurances to him that he was not a  
loser, their chemistry was simply confused. She didn't need to  
clarify that her reason for taking time off was at least in part  
due to their clumsy dance. He also wondered when he'd stop being  
an ass and just let her off the hook, but that was beside the  
point. 

Everything about her appearance was put-together and pretty, but  
beneath the careful makeup and coif, she was waifish, exhausted,  
and far away. She hadn't done more than mutter a hello to him  
before dropping her things and leading him back out to the elevator  
to catch their appointment with the AD. At a time when her health  
was a matter of concern and constant paranoia, her pallor and  
defeatist posture bothered him immensely. He just wasn't sure when  
it was safe to ask her about it. 

For the time being, he'd let it pass. They had a meeting, and he  
didn't feel like pushing her. Later, he saw the furrow in the AD's  
brow as she passed through his office door - then, his quick,  
questioning glance to Mulder. She wasn't fooling anyone. Skinner  
was Scully's biggest fan. She didn't know it, but Mulder did. If  
she'd wanted him, the man would be hers. Mulder didn't know whether  
it more irritated him or comforted him. Was it friendly competition,  
or a bomb ready to explode? Perhaps a little of both, he thought. 

After their meeting concluded, they'd been off to the basement  
office like a shot, not much time to prepare for their immense  
assignment. Scully's eyes were glued to the file. She  
squinted and looked at the pages a little more closely than normal,  
tilting her head. Her neck and shoulders were tense, yet hunched,  
a sure sign of a devilish headache. 

"You OK today, Scully?" He tried to remain casual. "Do you need  
your glasses?" 

She looked to him and absorbed the concern on his face. Her poker  
face wasn't as good when she was hurting. Her eyes flitted around  
his face, never settling on his own eyes. He could see she was  
fighting with herself - to be 'fine', or not to be 'fine? It was  
her constant, formidable battle. "I've got a hell of a headache,  
and.." She pursed her lips, closing the file and bringing it to  
rest against her hip while they waited for the elevator. "The  
Oncologist did some tests and we had several conversations over  
the last week, and we've come to a mutual decision to take my  
treatment in a new direction." 

Mulder felt his eyes widening before he could control his reaction.  
He was certain he looked ready to vomit. The word 'treatment'  
incited immediate panic in him. He flashed back to a dreary  
hospital, where she'd looked at him with hopeful eyes and told  
him she would continue to live and grow in spite of the disease  
that would surely kill her. "Chemo?" 

"It's ok." She chuckled lightly, reaching to place a steady hand  
on his shoulder. "It's not chemotherapy, but a similar idea. The  
drug is an immunosuppressant called Methotrexate. It's meant to  
knock my immune system back a little so that we might be able to  
attempt gene therapy on the tumor in the future. The approach is  
actually not too far off from what Scanlon was proposing, but  
without the extremely aggressive chemotherapy and radiation that  
ultimately killed those women."

"But what's the diffierence? That man was, is, a murderer."  
Mulder stuttered. The ding of the elevator interrupted their  
hushed conversation, and Mulder ushered her into the car.  
Fortunately, they were now alone. 

"Scanlon never intended to help anyone - and my oncologist does.  
The ideas behind Scanlon's false course of treatment are solid and  
accepted forms of therapy for my particular cancer. I explained  
to my doctor that I have no interest in weakening my body with  
excessive treatment, and together we decided on this drug for the  
time being. I might be a little prone to illness, and tired  
sometimes... It causes some nausea. But its better than the  
alternative." Scully was stoic while she explained, but the  
uneasiness was evident on her face. Talking about her illness was  
difficult for her, he knew. Putting on her physician's hat, she  
evaluated herself from the outside in an effort to shelve her  
discomfort. Exiting the elevator, she walked hurriedly to the  
office. 

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked quietly, watching while  
she settled into her chair, opening her laptop. She smiled to him  
while she slid her glasses onto her nose, then laid out her  
various utensils and papers. She'd made ignoring him into a science  
long ago. It was like she was about to perform a paperwork autopsy.

"Help me finish this paperwork, so we can go spend some Bureau  
dollars." The second smile she threw over her shoulder was wide  
and bright. He was reminded that sick, pale, broken, or covered in  
unidentified material, she would remain the most beautiful thing he  
could think to lay his eyes on. Illness would never change their  
mutual attraction, and it scared the shit out of him. He moved  
toward his own terrifying stack of paperwork with the speed of a  
desperate man. 

 

\----------------------------------------

 

The Penninsula Hotel  
Manhattan  
March 28th, 1997

 

Travel woes and exhaustion melted from them at the sight of their  
plush hotel suite. Scully could feel the pressure in her head  
easing away from her as she took in the unbridled luxury around  
her. Surely a night reclining in the tub with a bottle of wine  
would dodge her awful headache. She could imagine it then, her  
limbs gluey and relaxed while she settled back with a wine more  
expensive than she would have ever purchased for herself. She  
hadn't been in a place so elegant since she was 10 years old.  
She could remember the exact hotel, and could probably guess  
the date pretty closely. 

It was the year her family first moved to California. A senior  
officer had been kind enough to purchase the room for his dear  
friend, Bill Scully, Sr and his rugged band of misfits. It was just  
one room, so they'd all been crammed together on two queen-sized  
beds and a pull out sofa, but to Dana it was nothing short of  
magical. There was something about a beautiful place where other  
people come and clean up your mess that just spoke to the unspoiled  
middle child. 

She'd eagerly waited until everyone was sleeping before slipping  
out of the room with her bathing suit and running to the pool  
downstairs. She saw the sign hanging from the glass entrance to the  
pool room, signifying that the pool was off limits after 10PM, and  
ignored it. It was a large pool - not particularly special, but a 10  
year old was easy to please. Unfortunately, her splashing around  
resulted in an angry hotel manager and an untimely trip back to her  
room, full with a lecture while her wet towel slapped her in the  
face as the manager held it and raged on their way. 

Ahab had been contrite until the hotel manager said something or  
other, calling to question his parenting technique. She couldn't  
recall what the man had said, but remembered holding her laughter  
back while Ahab put the man in his place and threw him out of their  
room. She remembered thinking that the man was lucky to be alive.  
She'd endured her own scolding for her little jaunt, but it was made  
better by the sight of her mother still curled up in bed, hiding her  
own laughter behind her hands. 

Hauling their bags into the hotel room had proven a Herculean task,  
Mulder gallantly offering his assistance in hauling her wardrobe of  
every occasion to the suite. She'd never had unlimited funds, and  
took Mulder's advice heartily about what she would need to fit in  
with the upper crust. She felt spoiled, like a debutante. She hadn't  
felt so "kept" in a very long time. Sometimes, she forgot his genteel  
and well-mannered upbringing, so hidden was it in his poor tie taste  
and mediocre apartment. His family was as screwed up as they came,  
but he knew how to ball room dance and hold a door for a woman. It  
was more than she could say for some. She now had four brand-named  
suitcases stuffed full to prove his good taste. 

"I don't know how I'm going to get these bags onto the boat, Mulder."  
She muttered as she dropped the last oversized piece of luggage in  
the doorway. "I think I could make these clothes last a month." 

"I wouldn't want my little princess to feel underdressed." He was  
teasing. "You'll be the talk of the season." 

"In that case, I can't wait for my coming out party..." She sneered  
good-naturedly. 

"Oh, that won't be until the Fall." He shook his head. "Positively  
clueless." 

Scully smiled widely. "Sometimes, I wish I was born into money. Then,  
I think about the weight of responsibility and unhappiness that comes  
with it, being paraded around like a prime piece of meat up for  
auction to the highest bidder, my life and happiness wagered on who I  
marry. Its a fine line." 

"You know, you have all the money you could ever need, at the drop of  
the hat. Its blood money, but its yours if you want it." He was famous  
for his overwhelming, smothering sincerity. His timing was off-kilter,  
the kind made for commercials and movies. It was a Hallmark moment  
between two people with no real sense of romance, but enough of said  
sincerity to bridge the gap.

"Let's go over the brief." She broke the tense silence. "We won't have  
time to review it before we board the ship in the morning."

He nodded, thankful that she'd let him off the hook. It simply wasn't  
time for that conversation. Yet. 

 

\--------------------------------- 

 

"The wife is Lisa." Mulder handed over a picture of an average-looking  
woman snapped as she was leaving the house. She was quite a bit younger  
than Accardi, by 10 years. She was blond, wearing somewhat revealing  
but casual clothing. She was pretty, with a sort of mid-western charm  
about her features. She looked like a country girl playing dress-up.  
"The pictures of the kids are unclear, at best." 

The next photo he passed to her over the king-sized bed was of Lisa  
and three children of varying ages standing beside their car. "The kids  
are Ben, 7, Taylor - a girl, by the way, 11, and Heidi, 13. According  
to intelligence, the kids will not be joining the Accardis on the  
cruise. They'll be staying with their caretaker, Georgette."

"Cute kids..." Scully studied the picture, trailing off. 

"Yeah, well, all kids are cute... Unfortunately, it doesn't matter who  
their parents are." He pulled out more photos, left over from  
surveillance details. They detailed the family doing mostly normal  
family things. Scully was surprised to see photos of Gene Accardi  
taking the kids various places without his wife: the local carnival,  
McDonalds, the boardwalk. He looked like any other family man across  
America. 

"The things this man does, and yet you would never know by watching  
him with his family. He's a good father." She was quiet. Mulder took in  
her posture, bent over the open folder, brows furrowed. 

"You know, Scully..." Mulder hunched over himself, hoping to regain her  
attention. "Its a cornerstone of the Mafia: They say they're all about  
the family. A man can pretend to be a family man, but it won't cover  
his atrocities. The man is a monster, plain and simple." 

Scully only sighed, closing the file. "Ok. Our identities. One more  
time." 

Mulder rolled his eyes and groaned. Scully irked a bit - she didn't  
have the benefit of his infallable memory. He humored her, though. "I  
am William Kaufman, a native of Amherst and now permanent resident of  
the Hamptons. A life-long rich boy, unending trust fund brat.  
Completely priveleged and unable to hold down a job, but it doesn't  
matter. I've got the girl of my dreams and a healthy gambling  
addiction, which will ensure that I spend a lot of time in the casino-  
Not surprisingly, a prime hang-out for our pal, Gene Accardi. Your  
turn." 

Scully fixed him with an eyebrow, not impressed with his 'cute'  
summary. "I'm Danielle Kaufman, Dani for short. I'm from a good family  
in Maryland. Not over-the-top rich, but rich enough that we would run  
into each other in the same social circles. We met at the Golf Club at  
the Hamptons, where you were playing and I was visiting with my  
parents. We were married five years ago and now have a permanent  
residence in the Hamptons. We have a rocky marriage, no kids, and may  
or may not be open to having affairs with others, should the need  
arise. Did I miss anything?" 

"I don't think so." He shrugged, obviously not paying a great deal of  
attention. 

"You alright, Mulder? What's up with you?" 

He sighed. "I just want to get the show on the road so we can put  
this behind us." He was picking up the photos spread across the bed  
and piling them onto his nightstand. "I got to thinking on the way  
over, and I just can't shake the feeling that we're being pushed out  
of town for a reason." 

"Why didn't you voice your concerns in Skinner's office?" She crossed  
her arms over her chest, peering at him. Mulder changed his mind more  
often than a bipolar kitten, but that didn't mean she had to like it.  
"You seemed fine at the time." 

"Are you kidding?" He scoffed. "Did you see that look he gave me?  
There was no way I was getting out of it. It just wasn't worth the  
argument. Besides, you seemed happy about it, so I didn't say  
anything." 

Scully nodded, pouting somewhat. She was about to be livid, and he  
could see it coming. She only pouted like that when her dander was up.  
"You know, Mulder; I've said it before. Not everything is a  
conspiracy against the American people or YOU."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He shrugged dismissively.

"It means that we're not here because of some grand scheme to screw  
you. And you can't be so dense that you don't know why we're  
actually here." 

He fixed her with a scowl and gestured her to continue. 

"Skinner saved some of those 'looks' for me, too. We're here  
because he doesn't have the balls to tell me I'm off of field work." 

She saw on his face that it was sinking in. He hadn't suspected,  
afterall. What happened to the man with the stupid grin in Skinner's  
office, excited about the unlimited Bureau credit card and a license  
to slack off for a week in the sunshine? When left to his devices,  
Mulder thought entirely too much. 

"Did..." He stuttered. "Did Skinner say something to you?" 

Scully shook her head. "I know its going to happen eventually,  
Mulder. One day, I'll wake up and I won't be able to see anymore  
and that'll be the end of it. But until then, he'll always be  
wondering whether I can still handle the assignment. If I were to  
meet a large assailant in a dark alley, could I really say I would  
come out on top? I'm not so sure. I can't blame him. I can't blame  
anyone, and it really pisses me off."

Mulder remained seated on the bed, his mouth hanging open while she  
ranted. He'd been grousing for no reason whatsoever. Why had he  
even said that? He'd gotten to thinking on the plane, and was just  
certain there was something Skinner wasn't telling him. It would  
seem that he was right. 

Scully cleared her throat. She was flushed, embarrassed. "I'm  
sorry. You didn't deserve that. I don't know what came over me."  
Her overly-formal speak came out to bely her nervousness. It drove  
him crazy.

"Scully..." He rose to meet her, but she turned to root through one  
of her suitcases. He briefly saw a tiny swim suit emerge from the  
bag, followed by a towel. He wouldn't speak to her until she was  
facing him. Listening.

"Not now, Mulder. I need to blow off some steam. I'm going for a  
swim." She didn't look at him again as she headed out the door, not  
bothering to change before she went and hoping to God the hotel had  
a locker room. 

 

\------------------------------

End Chapter I

 

Blood in the Water  
CHAPTER II

 

The cool water against her bare skin was heavenly - like  
welcoming an old friend back into her life. Scully was reminded  
that she hadn't been swimming recreationally since before her  
diagnosis. That would have to change. The rhythmic movements of  
her arms and legs forced the anger from her body. Nothing quite  
dulled the maudlin thoughts of impending doom like a brisk swim.  
Had her head been above water, she might have laughed. She would  
count it a small win that she was able to laugh at all anymore,  
between spastic fits of denial and self-reproach. Sometimes she  
wondered if there was something wrong with her, aside from the  
incredibly obvious. 

In medical school, she'd seen many a brave, haunted cancer face.  
Having never been a primary caregiver for a cancer patient, she  
never had the benefit of knowing what the person was like before  
the disease took over their life and body - only what she would  
know from a blessedly short oncology rotation. How did one go  
about living day to day with a death sentence? Her diagnosis was  
hardly new, but she still wasn't sure how to handle it. Truth of  
the matter was, all the inner strength in the world couldn't  
prepare anyone for the words; For the day a total stranger would  
sit them down and tell them they would be subjected to a terrible  
fate they didn't deserve. Cancer. Terminal. Inoperable. They were  
awful words. As an investigator of murder, she scoffed at the  
parrallel. As she hunted for the monsters and killers of the  
world, the most prolific killer of all would silently smother  
her until she was no more.

As she rounded another lap, Scully realized she'd lost count.  
Mulder would wonder where she was. Her rebellious streak had been  
hanging out for all to see lately - she didn't care what Mulder  
thought. She'd spent a dawdling half hour in the empty locker  
room, staring at her naked self in the mirror. She'd been doing a  
lot of that lately. She found it somewhat neurotic, but all the  
same couldn't stop herself from doing it. 

In actuality, what she saw in the mirror still looked pretty good  
in a racing Speedo. After learning about the cancer, she'd made a  
promise to herself. She would not allow herself to look like one  
of those Oncology ward victims from her residency days. At that  
time in her life, she'd drawn a line in the sand, and said You:  
Patient, Me: Doctor. Cancer wasn't part of the ten year plan.  
She didn't know if she'd ever really accept it as a part of her  
life. She could imagine herself on her death bed, fragile and  
eaten-away. Blinded by pain and medication, maybe just plain  
blind. Still, she would be surprised that she had cancer. She  
would turn over in bed in the morning, welcome the new day and be  
hit over the head all over again: 'I have cancer'. 

Her refusal of chemotherapy had gone a long way toward helping her  
maintain her appearance. The Methotrexate did well enough on its  
own to ensure clumps of hair on the pillow each morning, but her  
hair remained largely in tact. She'd never considered herself vain,  
but the thought of losing her hair was trying. She hadn't always  
realized how easily she was defined by something so simple as the  
hair on her head.

Trips to the gym were increased immediately. She wanted a strong  
body. Strong bodies faught illness. If she was honest, she would  
admit that it was more to hide the changes in her body than to  
nurture it. She would look thin, but it would appear to be of her  
own choosing. People would ask "How do you do it? What's your  
secret?" and she wouldn't have the heart to tell them the truth,  
but would coldly thank them, leaving them to wonder. They all  
probably just though she was snotty - it wasn't new to her. People  
had said she was snotty for as long as she could remember. 

Rounding out another lap, she gasped and thrust her head above the  
surface of the water. She'd reached her limit. As she pushed the  
water back from her face, willing her heart rate to slow, the  
beautiful hot tub across the way called to her. Her aching muscles  
cried out for the warmer water, and she made her way, finding it  
just as she imagined: Placid, clear, and heavenly-hot. Silently, she  
thanked Skinner for the easy assignment. She wouldn't admit it  
aloud, but she needed it. She wasn't being facetious when she got  
irritated with Mulder, but her anger laid more with her dreadful  
situation than with her boss or partner. Always an investor in the  
weight of pride, she was grateful to Skinner for allowing her the  
opportunity to keep hers. 

Sometimes, she thought Skinner knew her better than he had any  
right to. If she stopped and thought about it, she and the elusive  
AD had much in common - more than was readily found between  
herself and Mulder. She and Mulder were brought together by  
unfortunate circumstances, and a mutual need for justice. It just  
so happened that along the way they found they complimented more  
than hindered each other. Had she not met Mulder, though, she  
could see herself as an amalgamation of Assistant Director Walter  
Skinner, twenty years or so down the line. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the noisy atrium door opening,  
admmitting an older woman hobbling along on crutches. In her long,  
oversized, fluffy robe, it took a moment for Scully to realize  
the woman was absent her left leg. She couldn't have been more  
than sixty; She moved very well on the crutches and it took her no  
time at all to shed the robe and begin lowering herself onto the  
lip of the hot tub. Her swimsuit was flattering and modest, in a  
dark floral print. The woman reminded Scully of her mother. 

"I don't mind you looking." The woman's voice was sugar-sweet,  
and it was just then that Scully realized her eyes were glued to  
what was left of the woman's leg. It was carefully sewn into a  
stump just below her knee. It was good surgical work. The  
scarring appeared relatively fresh - She'd lost the leg within  
the last two to three years, she guessed. "I'm so sorry."  
Scully blushed. "I don't mean to be rude." 

Instead of being incensed, the woman instead seemed amused by  
Scully's curiosity. She finished lowering herself into the water,  
obscuring the limb and settling herself onto the concrete bench  
that ran the perimeter of the hot tub. 

"I don't mind talking about it. Most people only see the ugly  
about it, but I like telling them how this is the best thing that  
ever happened to me." 

Scully raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her suited chest.  
"How so?" 

"People think things like this only happen because of some  
tragedy. The real tragedy was that I had everything I needed. I  
came from a rich family, never wanted for anything. God was good  
to me. But I hadn't done anything to appreciate it, to help  
others." 

Seeing the sudden discomfort on Scully's face, the woman chuckled,  
holding up a hand. "I'm not about to get all preachy on you;  
Don't worry. First of all, my name is Roberta. I didn't know  
whether or not I believed in God before two years ago. When I  
found out I was going to lose my leg because I hadn't taken care  
of my Diabetes, boy did I want to believe in him. I prayed all  
day and night that he'd perform some miracle and save my leg. 

"When I woke up in the hospital, after the surgery, I had some  
time to think about it. I realized that I was looking at it all  
wrong. Life had been kind to me. The great doctors I had, the  
friends who helped me. I had all the money in the world, but I  
lost my leg because I'd forgotten that it was my job to take care  
of my body." Roberta sighed and smiled widely. "But, enough about  
me... I can tell you have a story, Sweetheart." 

Scully vaguely thought that it had been many years since someone  
had called her 'sweetheart' with any sort of sincerity. She  
ducked her head, remembering her undercover assignment. "There's  
not much of a story to tell..."

"You're sick, aren't you?" Roberta chuckled at Scully's startled  
expression. "Don't worry - it's not obvious. Pretty little thing  
like you shouldn't have to worry about things like that, though.  
I'm very sorry." 

Scully wanted to shout, scream, and plead with the woman to tell  
her more. To hand her the big secret. She wanted to say things  
that she couldn't say to her mother, her Bureau-appointed  
psychiatrist, or Mulder by sheer virtue of the fact that the  
woman had a kind smile and she'd never have to see her again.  
Instead, she reminded herself of her temporary position as  
'Rich Man's Wife' and held her tongue. She demured, telling  
Roberta, "I'm sure it'll work out for the best." 

For a moment, the older woman's gaze was eerily penetrating,  
boring into Scully's eyes. Only, it didn't feel like Roberta was  
looking into her eyes. Instead, Scully was sure the woman was  
probing behind her eyes. The poetic Dana inside her asserted that  
it felt as though the woman was touring her soul. The Doctor that  
more firmly inhabitated her head wondered if Roberta could see  
the tumor behind her eyes. What color would it be? 

For a split second, Scully thought she could feel her invader -  
not the way she usually felt it, in a headache or her irritating  
lack of smell. It was a weight, some sort of throbbing that  
reminded her of its presence. Sometimes her eyes just felt a  
little heavy. 

"I won't pretend to know you..." Roberta's gaze refocused onto  
Scully's face. "And I'm no psychic, but I believe you. You'll be  
around for many years to come."

Scully didn't know why, but she was almost too uncomfortable to  
bear. It felt as though she'd unwittingly given something away.  
"You don't die..." Clyde Bruckman had said it to her a year ago.  
At the time, she'd thought him a nice enough but ultimately  
desperate old man. Looking back, she could see that all he'd  
ever been was painfully honest and lonely, and she desperately  
hoped he'd been right.

Scully bolted from the water, not stopping to consider Roberta's  
reaction. She just ran. The clothes she'd worn down to the pool  
would be in the locker room. She didn't care.

 

\---------------------------

 

The hotel bar was an overly lavish afair, the kind of dark wood  
and low-light atmosphere than invited old money-men to sit down  
with a Stogie. The night was young, and the bar was fairly  
deserted. Mulder spotted two women sitting together at a quiet  
corner table. They whispered to each other, goggle-eyed and  
giggly, over their dirty martinis. They'd probably light up  
their own cigars at any moment - no pretty pink drinks for  
these ladies. 

A raucous group of men huddled together in a semi-private area  
in the back of the dim bar. No doubt, they would be billing an  
unsuspecting company accountant for their good time. Mulder  
settled himself onto a stool at the empty bar, where a young,  
unassuming barkeep took his order and filled his drink in a  
ghost-like manner.

"If you don't mind me saying, you don't look like you're from  
around here." The bartender smiled easily while he spoke. His  
nametag declared him to be Steve. Steve also displayed his  
dimples proudly when he smiled. 

Mulder chuckled amiably. "I'm here with my wife." 

"Uh huh." Steve glanced at the two women in the corner. They'd  
progressed to some light petting under the tabe. "Then you  
definitely don't fit in around here. If you don't mind me  
asking, what brings you to the Penninsula?"

"We're catching a cruise at Manhattan docks tomorrow. Mostly,  
we chose the Penninsula for location, although my wife seems to  
be enjoying the pool." Mulder looked at his watch, irritated. 

"Close quarters make for the worst fights, eh?" Steve raised his  
eyebrows.

Mulder fixed the overly-friendly bartender with a glare. "The  
role of nosy Bartender isn't flattering for you, Steve." 

Steve's arms went up in surrender. "Sorry, Man. Its not very  
often that a friendly-looking, normal guy my age comes in here.  
I'm new to the area. I was going to ask if you wanted to shoot  
some hoops or something sometime, ok?"

Mulder knocked back the remainder of his screwdriver, setting  
the glass back onto the bar a little harder than he had to. He  
knew he looked cagey and beat a hasty retreat. "I'll be sure to  
let you know, Steve." 

He didn't wait for the other man's reply. Nice enough guy, he  
thought. He was probably just lonely. Or gay. Unfortunately,  
Mulder didn't have the luxury of making unnecessary friends in  
the face of his assignment, and his preoccupation with Scully  
was consuming. He had hoped to take his nervous energy down a  
couple notches with the booze, but had only succeeded in making  
himself restless. 

How had he managed to miss the signals from Skinner? Removing  
Scully from the field was simply not an option, he'd thought. If  
that were to happen, they would all have to finally acknowledge  
that there was something deeply wrong; Something that would beat  
them all. The psychologist inside him felt the repression and  
awkward tension. None of them were ready for it, he knew. He  
fancied them all, including himself, masters of denial. 

In spite of Scully's obvious anger and his propensity for self-  
loathing, he knew he would be forgiven by the next time he saw  
her. She'd been honest with him - she really did just need to  
blow off a little steam. He knew her well. She'd probably spent  
the last two days thinking about Skinner's intentions. Of course,  
she wouldn't want to discuss her suspicions with him - it would  
open her up to the possibility of someone desking her. He wasn't  
known for his small mouth or sense of control. Mulder was aware  
that something small, at this point, could separate them  
professionally. 

He still shook is head in mild disgust at his insitence that his  
money was hers. It had been a doltish declaration, out of the  
blue. It might have scared her. The thought of what may come,  
and very soon, left him angry, sick, and bereft. He could see  
the signs of grieving within himself, try as he might to not  
grieve her while she was still with him. Mulder didn't know how  
to handle the thought that the world, some day, would continue  
turning without her in it. 

Would he forget the little things about her? Would he slowly  
forget the exact sound of her voice, or the way she took her  
coffee? Would he remember what the last shade of red her hair  
was? Someday, he might not recall just how her face was put  
together - the soft slope of her nose, or just where her mouth  
started and ended. He was certain he would never forget her  
eyes, though. And he would never forget that she was pretty.  
She wasn't girl-next-door, ordinarily pretty. She was the sort  
of woman you looked at and realized that you would never see  
anyone who looked like her again. 

Walking through the lobby, he caught just a glimpse of her  
tiny, surprisingly bare form running accross the ante-room  
that housed the elevators. He quickened his pace to meet her,  
surprised to find her dripping wet, a puddle forming on the  
marbled floor beneath her. She was without a towel, looking  
somewhat confused. It was odd, watching her drip amidst the  
opulent oak and brass decor of the room. 

When she finally turned to acknowlege him, her expression was  
sad and disturbed. If she hadn't been covered in water, he  
would have been convinced she'd been crying. 

"Scully, are you ok? You must be freezing." His fingers grazed  
her bare shoulder, confirming that she was, in fact, freezing.  
"Did someone bother you?" 

She shook her head, forcing herself to breathe deeply. When  
the elevator signalled, he corralled her on board and watched  
while she sank back against the wall, relieved. "I'm fine. I  
just need to get out of this swimsuit." 

There would be no more discussion of the matter that night.  
There would be no discussion of anything. 

 

\-----------------------

 

The Accardi Home  
New York, New York  
March 29th, 1997

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Gene?" She was beginning  
to harp. Lisa could hear the squeak in her own voice. She  
watched while her husband hurriedly threw his clothing into  
a suitcase, next to her already-neatly-packed designer bag,  
then threw back another large gulp of her icy margarita. She  
was more than a little buzzed, and certainly didn't care.  
"You know the cops are watching. You don't think these trips  
are gettin' a little obvious?" 

Gene's voice was low and dangerous. "Its none of your  
concern, Lisa." 

Lisa's face reddened, and she brushed back a lock of her  
well-kept blond hair. "None of my concern? Since when is my  
husband none of my concern? And don't you be pullin' this  
shit on me - you think I'm stupid? That I don't know what  
you're up to?" 

"I said," Accardi fumed. "Its none of your business, Lisa.  
Go finish up with the maid, and for fuck's sake, stop  
drinking."

She crossed her arms impishly, nearly sloshing the margarita  
onto her crisp white blouse. "Then you won't mind if I skip  
this trip. The maid might need some help around here." 

"You're going. I told you, I need you." Accardi crossed his  
own arms, slumped against the outer poster of their large,  
carved oak bed. 

"You mean you need me to look good. Your cover. There's a  
special place in hell for you, Gene Accardi. I'm glad Max is  
going with you -- I sure as hell hope you listen to him better  
than you listen to me. Innocent people are dead because of you.  
Not capos, not associates... you think I don't know what you  
do? Don't you be mistaken, Mister. I know your every move." 

Accardi slumped onto the bed as his wife grabbed her bag and  
stomped out of the bedroom. She would go. He could hear her  
saying goodbye to the kids. She would get over it, he thought.  
She probably wouldn't even remember after she sobered up. It  
was business as usual.

 

\-----------------------

 

Manhattan Cruise Dock

 

Mulder was overwrought. Stuffed into a mass of angry patrons  
waiting to board the ship, his mood was foul. His partner,  
however, stood beside him, leaning against the railing in  
casual fashion and a rosy smile in tow. He didn't begrudge  
her the good mood, but boarding the ship was trying his  
patience, and he was wondering why it wasn't trying her's. 

He'd been on a cruise once before, as a teenager. He  
remembered it well, the last trip he'd taken with his  
grandparents before they died. In the years after Samantha's  
disappearance, his grandparents had done all they could to  
fill the gap for the remaining Mulder sibling. While his  
mother disappeared under a valium blanket and his dad worked  
progressively later, his Nana and Pop were more than willing  
to pick up some of the slack. Mulder had never particularly  
wanted pity, even as a child. Somehow, though, it seemed OK  
coming from a loving grandmother with a killer cookie recipe.  
The trip had been quiet, in the Autumn. It was a small  
cruise line and a short trip just up the Eastern seaboard. 

The ship that was docked before him, however, was a  
monstrocity of modern life. The hulking mass was shiny,  
white, and came equipped with every convenience imagineable.  
The crowd assembled on the narrow docking way was  
disgruntled, not above pushing, shoving, or namecalling.  
There had been some sort of computer problem, but God only  
knew why they were meant to stand outside in misery when  
there was a perfectly large and well-conditioned check-in  
area awaiting them. Mulder sighed heavily, not for the first  
time in the last few moments. 

"Calm down, Mulder." Scully didn't even look at him, but her  
lips quirked in amusement. She leaned against the railing  
in her light spring coat, not minding the crisp air or the  
large crowd. He didn't understand how such a small being  
could be comfortable cowed in by all the larger bodies  
around her.

"What's there to be calm about, Scully? I could die on this  
very dock. I could just keel over, and these people would  
just keep walking all over me. They'd think 'hey! A new  
rug!'." 

Both of her eyebrows ascended high onto her forhead. "Oh,  
really? And what EVER am I to do with the delicate genius?" 

Mulder scoffed. "I don't know. I'm just a little flower. I  
could faint." 

The man next to Mulder, previously residing in his armpit,  
fixed him with a disgusted look and moved over a foot or  
two for good measure. Mulder couldn't help fixing the  
irritated man with a wide grin. The other man clearly  
thought he was crackers.

"Geez, Scully... I guess no one ever said New Yorkers had  
a sense of humor..."

 

\-----------------------

 

Once the line got moving and boarding began, the  
experience was whirlwind. There were people everywhere.  
Noise everywhere, and as Mulder and Scully began wandering  
around the ship in a bid to find their stateroom, they were  
assailed by myriad food venders, attractions, clubs, music  
and fruity drinks. It was a parade at sea, a cracked-out  
Mardi Gras. 

Their stateroom was a sight to behold - very much steeped in  
luxury, just as the hotel had been. It was easily as big as  
either of their apartments, and stocked for any eventuality.  
A tub for her, a TV for him. Mulder's disappointment couldn't  
be hidden, however, when he discovered that the programming  
was limited to a variety show hour about the cruise line and  
a couple bad soap operas on syndication with whatever channel  
from hell they got on this particular line. 

"Don't be so disappointed, Mulder." Scully quirked a knowing  
smile at him. "We can go down later and watch a movie in the  
pool." 

"It's probably some chick-flick." He wrinkled his nose in  
disgust, but watched closely as she removed some smaller  
unmentionables from her suitcase, transferring them to the  
small chest of drawers adjacent their oversized bed.

"Well, it does have to be family friendly." 

"You're just smug. You got your big tub and pretty bed, and  
I got the Lifetime channel meets Oprah." He sneered. 

Scully shrugged. "We need to go. Since boarding was a  
disaster, the embarkation and safety session will be starting  
in just a few minutes."

A look of mock paranoia spread across Mulder's face. "How many  
life-boats are there on this ship, Scully?" 

 

\----------------------------

 

The safety seminar was a dreary affair - yet again, Mulder  
found himself sandwiched between bodies he didn't know. He  
could barely hear the information coming from a sage member of  
the crew, addressing concerns and frequently asked questions  
via an ancient megaphone. He wasn't sure, but he thought he  
heard a woman ask in a nasal voice, 'What happens if we sink?"

Still docked in Manhattan, the crisp air whipped up the deck  
of the boat, chilling him slightly. It was warm for March in  
New York, but not when the wind was blowing at 40 miles an  
hour. Mulder willed himself to hold his grumpiness in check.  
His partner still smiled next to him. Just as with the loading  
dock, she seemed not to mind the bodies or the wind. 

On the deck, he caught his first glimpse of Gene Accardi.  
While the man shifted back and forth between feet, his wife  
watched the seminar closely. Maxwell Gallo stood behind him,  
his beady eyes taking in the crowd. The man may have been  
leaking them valueable information, but it didn't make him  
any less creepy. He was weasle-like, and reminded Mulder of  
a lousy uncle of his. The man had chased every woman in  
radius at every family event possible. He hadn't even had  
scruples about dating cousins. 

Accardi was also taking in the crowd, no doubt sizing up any  
competition or potential contacts amongst the other rich  
passengers. Mulder's eyes almost rose to meet Accardi's when  
the other man's gaze settled on Scully. It was like she was  
wearing a homing device. 'Classic', Mulder thought, watching  
the man take her in from foot to crown, not missing a single  
bit. Finally, he sighed and looked over the deck railing,  
lifting a small pair of binoculars he'd brought with him. He  
would pretend to be interested in birds while the other man's  
hungry gaze finished with his partner. 

He could hardly blame him. In her white trousers and blue  
shirt, she looked like a rich man's dream. The wife who would  
make him look good, and light his fire in bed. Mulder couldn't  
help but think that she fit right in, truly looking the part  
of the upper-crust woman. Not for the first time, he wished  
he had to guts to tell her what he wanted to give her. 

 

\-------------------------------

END, CHAPTER II


	2. II

Blood in the Water  
by Tessa Moore

See part I for all headers.

 

Blood in the Water  
Chapter III

 

Not for the first time that afternoon, Maxwell Gallo sighed  
in frustration. Gene was leading him on a goddamn chase all   
across the god-forsaken boat. He waited for the moment Gene   
would tell him his cover was blown. It would be all she wrote,   
and Max tried to keep his temper in check. It would only take   
one bad decision. But all the security in the world wouldn't   
have talked him into going to prison for the Accardi family.   
A glorified butler, that's what he was. Better to turn while   
there was something in it for him. He was, in fact, a life-  
long weasel. Gene was smart enough; he would read the writing  
on the wall before too much longer. 

Maxwell had witnessed Gene and Lisa separate with heated   
glares immediately after embarkation. He doubted very much   
they would see Lisa any more than necessary. The fight between   
the two lingered. God knew, Gene was in for a world of shit if   
he couldn't find a way to keep his wife's mouth shut. Instead   
of blessed quiet while the boss made the most of the getaway   
with his wife, Maxwell was now resigned to what seemed a   
lifetime of tailing Gene as he made his rounds across the boat.   
The man had been using this cruise line so often, the frickin'   
maids knew his name. 'So fuckin' stupid,' Maxwell thought and   
shook his head. 

"Think we'll find that hot piece of ass out here, Max?" Gene  
finally picked a table and retired himself into a chair with  
his cocktail. The younger man smiled in the mid-day sun,  
looking for all the world like any casual business man on   
vacation. Maxwell reluctantly joined him, mildly distracted by  
the 'ooh'ing and 'ahh'ing of the hundreds of tourists milling  
about him, acquainting themselves with the ship. They all   
carried frozen drinks, blended, in primary colors, careful not  
to spill them on their crisp, never-washed, day-old hawaiian  
shirts. 'Morons', he thought.

"The broad at the safety meeting? You weren't too discrete,   
my friend." Maxwell shook his head, threading his fingers   
together atop the glass table. The woman had been dangled like  
a carrot - just Gene's type. Max couldn't be sure, but she   
smelled like law enforement bait to him. Of course, he said   
nothing. 

"Well, her companion didn't seem too interested. Looking at  
the birds or some shit. I don't know about you, but I'd be  
turning those binoculars to look at that ass all day and night.  
Nice and close." Gene's smile was buzzed, his voice raucous.   
"Actually, I'd be doing more than looking at it."

Maxwell smiled stiffly. "Just sayin' you better watch out, Man.   
I don't know what you did, but your wife is pissed at you. You   
and I both know the business is compromised. You're going to   
be in deep shit if she doesn't shut up." 

Gene sighed. "You're right. Damn. I guess I better go buy her  
something or some shit." 

 

__________________________________________

 

Mulder watched quietly while Scully attempted to shove her  
various items of clothing into the chest of drawers beside   
the stateroom bed. She was right - they'd really driven the  
Bureau credit card to excess in his effort to secure here a   
'suitable' wardrobe. He knew she was uncomfortable with the   
attention, but he'd been unable to help himself going a little  
crazy. He mused that she might kill him if she knew he thought   
of her as someone to be 'spoiled' by him. 

While her good mood was still evident in her unwrinkled forehead  
and upturned lips, she'd been quiet that day, only really   
speaking to him when necessary. He wasn't sure whether to be   
ultimately glad or concerned, and when he thought about her   
behavior the night before he was downright confused. 

After a nauseatingly stiff elevator ride, her shivering in the  
corner of the car in her swimsuit, they'd retired to their   
shared room. He'd said nothing when she went right to the   
bathroom, not bothering to close the door all the way while she  
hastily shed the swimsuit. Unsure what to do, he'd listened to  
the snapping of her swimsuit and the sound of her throwing on a   
robe with nary a word. She'd emerged looking tired and drawn,   
but with a pink in her cheeks he hadn't seen in a couple weeks.   
She simply declared that he was welcome to share the bed,   
oblivious while he stared in surprise. In the warm light of the  
room, she rolled into the bed, effortlessly finding comfort  
and snuggling into the pillow. When he heard her breathing slow,  
he shed his pants and t-shirt before he could change his mind  
and gingerly laid on 'his' side of the bed. 

"So, what's the plan of attack, Scully?" He watched her now, her   
tongue creeping out at the corner of her mouth while she   
finagled more clothing into the dresser drawers.

She cleared her throat, knowing she'd been caught and turned   
from her task. "I think we should do things as a normal couple   
would. Separately. We don't want to appear unapproachable, so too   
much togetherness might work against us. If we're separated and   
happen to run into either of the Accardi's, it will be much easier   
to strike up an unforced conversation."

"What makes you think THEY won't be together? Womens' intuition?"  
He quirked a smile, and was rewarded with a rotten look for his  
condescenion. 

"Did you see their body language on the deck? They may as well  
have been strangers. If they didn't have kids together, I   
would be surprised they even slept together at some point." 

Mulder chuckled. He didn't ask her whether she'd seen Gene   
Accardi staring at her. He was certain she had. "Are you sure  
you're not the psych major, Scully?" 

She finally smiled, but her brows furrowed at the sound of a  
clipped knock on the door. Mulder met her confused look and  
wished his weapon was more easily accessible. He understood  
the reasoning, but the weapons tucked away the linings of the  
suitcases did little to help them in an emergency. He opened   
the stateroom door warily, surprised to find a man in what  
appeared to be his fifties, looking very much like a lost tourist,   
smiling widely at him. The man's smile was just skirting creepy   
when he finally said 'Hello' and discretely flashed Mulder a   
security badge held by a chain and obscured beheath his shirt.  
Finally understanding, Mulder stepped aside and waived the man   
inside. 

He was an odd duck in his cheap plain shirt and ill-fitting  
khaki's. His socks were pulled up to his knees and his white hair   
was gelled in an out-dated coif. Did the man not realize he wasn't   
doing his cover any favors? 

"Mulder?" Scully looked at him questioningly from the other   
side of the stateroom. 

"No need to be alarmed, Agent Scully." The man answered for   
him, watching Scully's eyebrows raise instantly. He flashed her   
the same badge he'd shown Mulder at the door. "My name is Charles   
Jones. Charlie. I'm the chief of security aboard the boat. I'm   
sorry to have confused you with my state of dress. Research has   
shown that passengers feel much safer when the security presence   
on the boat is discrete.

"I've come to introduce myself and offer my assistance, and   
also to drop off this phone." Jones waved a large black handset  
phone. "This is a satellite phone handed to me directly by a  
member of your New York field office. I want to assure you that  
this phone is in no way connected with the operations of the   
boat, so security should be of no concern. Your AD has been   
given the number to this phone directly, and I've been advised  
that he'll be calling this evening. Are there any questions I  
can address while I'm here, Agents?" Both agents were surprised  
by Jones's comportment. He was a lot more competent than he   
looked. 

"Are you aware of our reasons for being here, Mr. Jones?" Scully  
hedged a bit as she asked. 

"Only vaguely." Jones shook his head. "I understand that there   
is a possible dangerous factor aboard the ship. I don't wish   
to interfere in your investigation, but you should know that   
I'm prepared to step in should there be a situation. The safety  
of the people aboard is my primary concern." 

"As it should be." Mulder nodded. "Please don't change  
anything about how you do your job. The suspect, while dangerous,  
has no interest in endangering any person aboard, with the   
possible exception of one. We'll take care of that." 

"Thank you, Agents." Jones smiled. "And please, do call me   
Charlie. I'm sure I'll see you around the ship. I try to keep   
myself out and about as much as possible." 

As Charlie excused himsef, the agents shared a glance. Scully   
smiled widely. "I'm meeting all kinds of characters on this   
trip..." 

"All kinds?" Mulder looked confused. 

"Oh..." She sighed. "It has to do with what happened last   
night. I regret not mentioning it sooner, but I was a little   
out of sorts. A woman I met in the hot tub of all places. She   
freaked me out a little... but she said some things I needed  
to hear." 

Mulder raised his eyebrows, coaxing her for more information.   
"And what was so unusual about her?" 

Scully smiled. "She was obviously a wonderful person. She   
lost her leg to Diabetes, but she was so accepting and even  
thankful for her loss. Like I said, she threw me off -   
something she said. Anyway... she made me realize how much   
I have to be thankful for." 

She didn't look at Mulder, instead turning to continue her   
unpacking. Mulder figured he had some unpacking of his own  
to work on, his heart suddenly just a little lighter. She   
would tell him when she was ready.

 

_____________________________

 

The end of their first day aboard was drawing to a close. It  
had taken practically the entire day just to get acclimated,  
get unpacked, and relax a bit before dinner. Mulder thanked  
the powers that be that there would be no formal dinner that  
night. He was far too exhausted to squeeze himself into the  
monkey suit he'd brought with him. He and Scully had spent   
the better part of the afternoon sitting back on the bed,   
watching the menial excuse for television they had. They   
would begin working in earnest the next day and be sure to   
increase their visibility. 

He dressed in black slacks and a black shirt, and Scully in  
a pair of black slacks and a soft, neutral blouse, they made   
their way to the main dining hall at their scheduled time.   
They arrived a few minutes before their scheduled block,   
ensuring they wouldn't wait in an atrocious line. They both   
wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. 

In the mediocre light of the dining hall, Mulder could see   
the bags under Scully's eyes. Was she tired like normal, or  
was she sick-tired? He never could tell, and it worried him.   
They both danced around the issue so much there was no   
telling. He knew her new treatment would change her energy  
level, but he wished so badly he could tell her how difficult  
it was to watch her illness from the outside. 

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" He asked her quietly while  
he watched her shuffle a fillet of salmon across her plate. 

"I think I should either go to the pool deck or go shopping.  
Maybe both. I think you should go to the bar and the casino.   
See what you can see." They were trying to be casual in the  
crowded dining area. 

"What's the plan if we run into anyone?" Mulder was already  
finished with his steak. He eyed her salmon hungrily. Portions  
were small when they were included in the bill. 

Reading his expression, she pushed her plate toward him. "I   
think the best we can do is try to be friendly. We can't   
really go wrong that way. But we really need to avoid   
befriending the wrong spouse. I don't want to sound conceited,  
Mulder, but something tells me that getting myself into a   
situation alone with Accardi could put me in a... compromised  
position." 

Mulder nodded. He wanted her to eat, but eagerly took half  
her salmon filet and downed it. "I think he looked more than  
interested at embarkation." 

Scully blushed, looking at her hands. She was surprised when  
Mulder's hand snaked toward hers, covering both with his one   
palm. 

"Don't worry, Scully. Its hardly your fault he thinks you're   
attractive. We just need to be sure to keep you out of his  
regular haunts. Stick to the pool, the salon and the shopping  
center, and you should be fine." 

Scully smiled. "I feel like a bimbo with daddy's credit card.  
I feel guilty for spending the money." 

"I can't think of a better excuse to treat yourself. Skinner  
made it clear that we are to spare no expense. Wanna get a   
couple's massage?" Mulder waggled his eyebrows. 

"Nah." Scully chuckled. "I wouldn't want you to get jealous  
when the hunky massage therapist gets started with me." 

 

__________________________________

 

The breeze on the deck was heavenly. They walked in   
companionable silence, enjoying the quiet. Their dinner   
block had been later than most that night, so they   
enjoyed the sparse traffic to and from the dining hall.   
Mulder spied Charlie sitting by his lonesome on a   
deck chair, quietly watching the families and couples   
walking past. He looked like most any other people -   
watcher, but winked at Mulder good-naturedly as they  
passed by. Scully seemed not to notice. She was   
entranced by the view of the moon on the water, its  
blue, sparkling expanse more beautiful than words   
could express. For the first time since they boarded  
the ship, Mulder wondered at his lack of seasickness.  
Not that he missed it. 

"When I look at the water," Scully picked a spot on the   
deck, leaning against the rail, taking a second to arrange   
her thoughts while she stared out at the moon-lit water. "I  
feel like my father is hugging me. Its the best feeling."

"I'm sorry." Mulder leaned over the rail beside her. "I  
wish he could be here." 

"I never told you... He came to me in a dream while I   
was taken, abducted... whatever. I don't remember much   
about the abduction, but I remember him being there with me.   
It was probably all a hallucination, but there was something   
so loving and comforting about it. Something wonderful in   
the middle of this horrible experience." 

She continued to stare out at the waves. Mulder thought she   
looked like a work of art, the soft lights of the boat  
playing against her perfect skin. He didn't dare interrupt  
her. 

"He wasn't much for speaking his feelings. He and I were   
very much alike that way. I always told myself that because  
we were similar, I understood his behavior. But those last   
few years... the distance hurt. In my dream he told me how  
much he loved me. How proud he was. Most of all, he told   
me it wasn't my time, but I thought it should have been my  
time because I would have given it all up to talk with him  
just a little longer." 

As usual, neither addressed the elephant in the room. Scully   
wondered what Mulder would do if she said everything she   
thought. Would he be able to handle it if she told him that   
sometimes she was grateful to be dying because she might be   
reunited with her Father and Sister? "I'm sorry, Mulder... I   
don't mean to sound depressive." 

"I appreciate your sharing." He turned to be sure she could  
see his smile. "I'm always here. For anything." 

"We're really screwed up, Mulder." She chuckled while she  
turned to continue walking down the deck. "You try to spare  
my feelings by not pushing me, and I try to spare your   
feelings by not telling you what's going on. I want to share  
more with you... I really do. But you need to realize that   
I have my own issues with denial and repression that I need  
to work through." 

"I do understand." He took her hand gently as they walked,  
squeezing it tightly to affirm his words. "But understanding  
and feeling are two different things, Scully."

As they rounded into the pool area, they could more clearly  
see and hear the movie playing on the giant screen. The pools   
and hot-tubs were quiet but relatively full of watchers   
leaning together in comfort. Mulder had no idea what the   
movie was, but recognized Jennifer Aniston's face.

"I told you it was a chick flick..." He whispered into   
Scully's ear, squeezing her shoulder amiably. 

Hands still wound together, she led him to two empty deck  
loungers. She laid in one, balling up against the breeze   
while she began watching the movie in silence. A towel   
cart not too far away caught his attention and he excused   
himself, tip-toeing through a maze of bodies to retrieve one   
oversized towel. 

When he returned to Scully, he found her watching the movie   
with a content smile. He gently swaddled her in the towel,   
tucking it around her like a blanket. She didn't thank him   
with words, but with an open, loving smile. Feeling bold, he   
pushed his lounger closer to hers and settled into it. He   
thought he might be getting the hang of this chick flick   
thing. 

 

___________________________________ 

 

March 29th, 1997  
At Sea

The bed just didn't feel right. Mulder startled awake,   
the discomfort in his spine bothering him. He lay flat on his   
back, head to the mattress, no comforter, and a large pillow   
lying on top of his face. Moving the pillow and squinting   
against the sunlight, he smiled at his partner beside him.   
He certainly hadn't pegged her for a messy sleeper, but boy  
was she. 

She lay similarly to him, sprawled on her back. She still had   
her pillow under her head, but her hair was a tangled rat's   
nest lying on her face. The comforter was twisted around her   
legs, one leg out and one in. He gazed longingly at the   
expanse of her torso bared to him in the morning sunlight.   
Her pajama top had ridden up to expose a lean, lovely midriff,   
with an unbearably cute outie belly button. The muscle   
around her belly was defined but womanly. It was perfect,   
unmarked. He pulled hiself upright and out of bed before he   
could get himself in trouble. A quick trip to the bathroom   
and a call to room service and he jumped in the shower. 

When he returned from his quick shower, he found Scully  
sitting at their dining room table, still robed, already  
digging into the spread. He'd ordered bacon, eggs,   
potatoes, fresh fruit, and bagels. Her face bore the   
evidence of her frenzied bagel-eating, the cream cheese   
smeared on her upper lip endearing. She never could get  
through a meal without getting something on her clothing  
or face. He loved it. 

"Oh, good. I see breakfast got here OK." He smiled. 

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait for you." She looked sheepish.  
"I was starving." 

He resisted the urge to point out to her that she hadn't   
eaten her dinner the night before. Instead, he shrugged and   
dismissed her apology. She looked like she felt much better   
today. Her complexion was sunny, the bags disappeared from   
under her eyes. It looked like she'd found a hairbrush since   
he saw her last. 

"How is it?" He asked as he piled up his own plate with   
eggs and bacon. 

"Delicious. Thank you for ordering... it was just what I  
needed." She smiled around a chunk of fruit. 

"You're welcome. What were you planning for your outing  
today?" 

"First of all, Skinner called while you were in the shower.   
He was irritated that he missed us last night." She   
grimaced.

"Oh, damn... I completely forgot." Mulder sighed.

"Me, too. Anyhow, there wasn't really anything to report.  
He did tell me they found what they believe is the weapon  
that killed Min Yang. It was wiped clean. So, the pressure  
is on. Skinner wants us to move forward more agressively   
for contact with the Accardis.

"I was thinking, since we'll be at port tomorrow afternoon,   
that I should try and fit in as much as possible for today   
and hope that its good enough to spark a run-in with Lisa.   
I was going to start at the pool, then go to the shops. I   
scheduled a haircut and a manicure for the late afternoon."   
She blushed, and Mulder couldn't help but think there was  
something glorious about her rosy complexion against the  
stark white of her robe. 

"Sounds great." He smiled. "I didn't want to hit the booze  
and gambling too early in the morning, so I thought I might  
go waste some time at the gym. It looks like Accardi might  
work out on occasion." 

Scully nodded. "Good thinking. I'm going to head to the   
pool as soon as I finish eating. No sense in showering if   
I'm just going to have to wash all the chlorine off   
anyway." 

 

________________________________________

 

The view from the pool was spectacular. Scully though she   
could get used to it, watching the churning sea from her   
conveniently cool and disturbance-free pool. It was nearly  
noon, but the area was quite empty. Everyone was probably  
recovering from their adventures the night before. The pool  
wasn't much for laps, but she did the best she could,   
releasing some pent-up energy. 

She wondered what had gotten into her. She'd been practically   
inviting Mulder to romance the night before. She hadn't been   
lying, though, when she told him she was ready to start   
sharing more. She regretted putting him through the pain she   
had already. She was more than aware that her illness was   
just as difficult for him as it was her. Sometimes she   
thought moreso. Ultimately, she didn't want to tell him that  
it would be best for him if he distanced himself, true as it  
may be.

The salt breeze chilled her a bit in the pool and she moved  
herself to the oversized hot tub adjoining. It offered an   
even better view of the ocean. She vowed to take her Mom on  
a cruise. She would love this. Growing up, their family had  
never been afforded such luxuries. While not exactly hurting  
for money, it cost a lot to put four children through  
private school, college, and sports. 

Scully quickly dunked her head under the heated water,   
sighing at the warmth around her shoulders and face. Pushing  
back up and rubbing the water from her eyes and face, a gasp  
surprised her. It took her a second to realize the gasp   
wasn't her own.

"Oh my god, are you ok?" She paid no heed to where the voice  
came from, but looked downward and nearly vomited at the sheer   
volume of blood in the water of the hot tub. In her dizzied   
confusion, she barely recognized Lisa Accardi jumping into   
the hot tub with her and wondered at her enormously bad luck. 

 

______________________________________

 

Mulder managed to waste an hour and a half in the gym. It was  
deserted. Who worked out on their drinking and partying   
holiday? Apparently, no one. He was bored, watching the   
advertising channel on the tv on endless loop. He'd been   
jogging listlessly on the treadmill for nearly an hour. 

That night would be formal night for the entire boat. Dinner   
and a dance. He hated to admit that he was excited-not much for  
the social opportunities, but for the chance at a carefree   
outing with his partner. After their conversations the night   
before, he felt like they finally had a point to move forward   
from. Eddie VanBlunt and his buffoonery were far from his mind.  
he'd unwittingly forgotten his utter jealousy. Now, he just   
had to figure out how to keep himself from screwing it up with  
Scully. 

Moving on to happier thoughts, he wondered briefly what she   
would wear. She'd insisted that he not come with her while she   
did that particular shopping job. She'd begged off, saying that   
she was terribly particular and that she would drive him crazy   
with her naysayings and bashes of the hundreds of dresses she   
would try on. Secretly, he hoped it was because she wanted to   
surprise him. The thought of her dressing for him in any way   
was an unbelievable turn on. 

As much as he knew that she was right about their need to   
separate during the day, he was missing her company. His   
morning had been downright boring, and he found himself   
hoping that he would run into her when he went out to the   
deck for lunch. He wondered how her morning swim was treating   
her. It was a beautiful day. 

 

__________________________________________

 

The medic was a nice, handsome man, but she was sure she could  
punch him right about then. Responding to the frantic screaming   
on the deck, Charlie had called for the help of the Ship medic, a   
young-ish doctor of irritatingly friendly demeanor. His name  
was Doug, as he had been sure to tell her. Twice.

"Ma'am..." He'd quietly escorted her from the hot tub while she  
continued to pour blood onto the white deck. A special cleaning  
crew was called before she was even away from the scene. "I'm   
Doug, the ship Doctor. We're going to make sure you're going to  
be ok. Did you hit your head?" 

She'd shaken her head frantically, wishing for nothing more than  
the opportunity to lock herself in a bathroom and clean up her   
own mess. She could hear the concern in Doug's voice. "Did   
someone hit you?" 

"No." This time she spoke concisely, wincing somewhat at her   
irritable tone. 

To her eternal dismay, Lisa was eager to follow them to the   
small clinic in the heart of the ship. Thankfully, she was asked  
to wait in the anteroom while Doug escorted his patient to the   
examination room. 

Now, swabs of cotton stuck up both of her nostrils, she listened  
while Doug prattled on in his concern. 

"You're going to need an MRI and a scan. I'm going to write a   
recommendation that you see a friend of mine as soon as you   
disembark. I know this may seem like nothing, especially if its   
an isolated incident, but I'm concerned by the volume of blood..."

"That won't be necessary." She spoke softly. 

"I really insist that you get checked out. I recommend that you   
don't take this lightly, Miss Kaufman..." Doug shook his head   
reproachfully while Scully tried to remember her assumed identity.

Scully was a little more forceful. "Doctor, I assure you it won't   
be necessary. I am a Medical Doctor and well aware of my state of   
health, which I would prefer not be shared with the woman in the   
waiting room. I have been diagnosed with a nasopharangeal mass,   
which is responsible for the heavy bleeding you witnessed today.   
Please spare yourself the time it would take to send your   
referral." Feeling the flow of blood staunching, she pulled the  
bloodied cotton from her nostrils, tossing them into the haz-mat  
trashcan.

"Oh." Doug look dumbfounded. "I'm sorry to hear that. If you   
don't mind me asking, what's the prognosis?" 

Scully's heart dropped, and she fought the urge to vomit.   
Instead, she forced her mask of professionalism back up.   
"Terminal." 

"I'm sorry to bother you, Doctor. And may I say, I'm disturbed  
by such a prognosis." Doug cleared his throat, moved away from   
her and went to the examination room door. "Of course, you have   
nothing to worry about with your friend in the lobby. Let me   
know if there's anything else I can do while you're on board." 

Scully forced a smile. "Hopefully I won't be needing any further  
assistance." 

She watched the friendly doctor's face fall. She was well aware  
of how surprising and - to others - sad, her condition was. She  
also recognized that if she allowed herself to start seeing her  
situation as sad, it would be difficult to be happy about   
anything at all. 

 

\----------------------------------

 

"Oh, thank God you're alright!" Lisa Accardi's brash New Jersey  
accent was the first thing Scully heard upon leaving the exam  
room. The woman was sitting on a leather couch in the clinic   
anteroom, perched nervously on the edge. Her blond hair was held   
back by a clip and she wore a tasteful one-piece black swimsuit,  
a black knit sarong hanging low on her hips. 

Scully forced herself to smile at the woman. After the excitement,  
she really wanted to go back to the stateroom and crawl into a   
hole. Work, however, had to come first. "Thank you for all your   
help...?" 

"Oh," She giggled. Scully recognized that the other woman was not   
entirely sober. "I'm Lisa. I'm so glad you're OK. I know the water   
makes it look worse than it is and all, but I've never seen so   
much blood. I thought you must have hit your head or something." 

"Its nothing. Really." Scully continued smiling. "Just a bad nose  
bleed. I guess it must be the salt air. I'm Dani, by the way." 

The women shook hands awkwardly. Lisa demurred. "I'm sure you have   
somewhere else to be. I saw you on the deck yesterday with your   
husband. If you don't mind me saying, he's really cute." 

Scully chuckled. "Yes, his is cute. A pain in the ass, but cute.   
Actually, he's off wasting time by himself. I'd love some company   
for the afternoon, but I do have a salon appointment to make   
before too long." 

Lisa positively beamed, flashing her perfect white teeth. "I'd   
like that. My husband is also entertaining himself for the   
afternoon, so I'm a little lonely. And a girl can never get too  
many haircuts." 

 

\-----------------------------------

END CHAPTER III

 

Blood in the Water  
by Tessa Moore

 

CHAPTER IV

 

\----------------------------------

 

Not willing to set foot in the bar quite yet, Mulder sat   
absently in the casino. He'd gone back to the stateroom to  
shower after his workout and wasted another hour. When he   
made it out to the deck for lunch, there was no sign of   
Scully. He hoped she was having more luck than he was. The   
casino was deserted, with light wait-staff. Internally, he   
felt odd frequenting the casino so early in the day, but not   
so odd as he would have felt sitting in the bar. He would   
have to settle for the lesser of the two evils. 

Perched on an uncomfortable stool, he pulled the cheesy  
old-fashioned handle on the slot machine over and over,   
feeding coins into its oversided slot like candy. He had no   
idea how much money he'd lost, sitting in something of a   
trance with his bucket of quarters. Jesus; It was no wonder  
people lost their fortunes and lives to their gambling   
habits. It was so mindless. Thankfully, it wasn't his money. 

A cute waitress served some Tom Collins's to a line of old   
men a couple rows down from him, the only activity in the  
place. He sighed, taking in his empty quarter bucket. His   
tailbone thanked him when he slid off the stool and   
relocated to the blackjack tables across the room. Only one  
table was manned, with a weedy-thin man seated, his back   
slumped in defeat. Mulder hadn't seen him when he scanned  
the place over. He was dressed nicely with the exception of   
his dress shirt pulled free from his slacks and hanging free  
under his jacket. He looked like he'd been there all night. 

As Mulder sat, he recognized that the man was Maxwell Gallo.   
His beady eyes squinted and he smelled lightly of booze. It   
occurred to Mulder that the man was aware of their presence   
on the boat. He recalled Skinner mentioning that Gallo was   
assured of his safety, though he surely didn't know who the   
bureau was sending. 

"You're trying too hard." Gallo spoke softly. 

"Excuse me?" Mulder knitted his brows, placing his quarter  
bucket on the lip of the blackjack table. 

"I know who you are." Gallo fixed him with a steely look.  
He turned to the dealer. "Hit me." 

"Fuck." Gallo sighed in disappointment as he washed out, the   
dealer disappearing the cards before Mulder even had time   
to look at the hand. 

"You want in?" The dealer sent Mulder an exasperated glance,   
and Mulder only nodded, pulling his wallet out to lay down  
cash on the table. The dealer quickly exchanged his cash for  
chips, and Mulder watched, fascinated while the man shuffled  
the deck. 

Mulder looked at his dealt cards while he continued the   
quiet conversation. "How is it that you know who I am? Hit  
me." He split his time between the man next to him and the   
impatient dealer. 

"Better luck next time, Gentlemen." Both hands ended badly,   
the dealer sweeping the cards away and replacing them with a   
'closed' sign. "Shift change. The next dealer will be with   
you shortly."

Gallo waited until the dealer disappeared before continuing,  
swiveling his stool to whisper at Mulder. "You think I made   
it in my business as long as I have without being able to   
pick out a Fed? I may not know your name, but I know you.   
And you're trying too hard. Gene's a party animal - he won't   
be out again until the late afternoon, maybe even dinner." 

Mulder nodded. "And why is it that you're helping me?" 

Gallo laughed. "Why wouldn't I? The Feds are pullin' my ass   
out of the fire. I've wanted to get out of the business   
forever. Usually there's only one way out." 

"Death." Mulder was stoic. 

"Or prison. I'm not particularly interested in either. I'm   
tired of Gene's shit. He's stupid as Fuck. He was going to   
go to prison with or without my help, but I can see the   
writing on the wall. I'm not going to the box for someone   
else's family." 

Mulder nodded, absorbing the information, while Gallo  
signalled to the waitress for a refill on his cocktail.

"Do you know where Accardi plans on doing business this  
trip? Which port?" 

"I can't help you, there. He's been hush-hush about those  
sorts of details forever. I guess he's not a complete   
moron. I can tell you this, though. He does business at   
every port, just a different kind of business. And if you   
want to keep him coming around, you bring that little   
broad you have with you - your partner or whatever the   
fuck. He's got a boner for her." 

Gallo accepted his drink from the waitress and staggered  
away from the table.

 

\------------------------------

 

"So, do you work or anything, Dani?" Lisa chattered amiably   
while they awaited thier salon appointment. Against her   
better judgement, Scully had gone with Lisa for a drink   
before their hair appointments. The woman was almost   
unbearably chatty. The salon was classy, the entire alcove   
set in a shiny marble and spotless. It was quiet, only a   
few workspaces occupied. 

"I don't." Scully grimaced. "I would, but Billy doesn't   
really see the need." 

"Oh!" Lisa chirped. "I can't believe I was so rude not to  
ask you... So, you have kids?" 

Tamping down her inner urge to roll her eyes, Scully   
didn't have to work hard to look a little crestfallen.   
"No... I don't. I guess the husband just wants me all to   
himself." She shrugged a little for good measure.

"Oh." Lisa looked disappointed. "I wish my kids were here.  
they would make everything so much more fun, but Gene really   
feels like they get in the way when we're on vacation." 

Scully nodded, flipping through a magazine of prospective  
hairstyles. "So, what does Gene do?" 

Lisa didn't hesitate or take time to search for her cover  
story. She'd obviously told this story many times before.   
"He's a venture capitalist. Just a little here and there,   
keeps us all happy. He's done very well." 

"That sounds very interesting." Scully tilted her head,   
feigning her rapture. "I wonder of Billy might be able to  
talk to him? He really needs some direction in his life.   
He just doesn't believe that the money might not be there  
some day, and since he's never had to work, he doesn't see  
the need. I feel like he might not be as in control of our   
financial situation as he should be. He doesn't tell me   
things, you know?." 

Lisa smiled. "I see. Trust fund kid, right? I know the   
type. They're all smiles and charm and fun, but they're   
really just big giant disasters. I played around with a   
few of those before I got married. I'll see if Gene might   
be willing to talk to him, help you out." 

"That would be great." Scully patted Lisa gently on the   
arm, smiling broadly. 

"I'm glad I met you, Dani," Lisa returned her pat. "I   
think we have a lot in common. You deserve someone who   
knows what he's doing with his life. I can tell that   
you're an amazing woman."

"I'm glad I met you, too, Lisa." Scully sighed, summoning  
up the best of her acting skills. "Sometimes I just   
wonder if the country clubs and life in the Hamptons   
might... not be enough at some point. He doesn't want   
kids. I just don't know what to do with myself some days,  
but I worry that I won't have enough to offer." 

"I'll tell you what." Lisa flashed Scully a brilliant   
smile, and it occurred to Scully that the woman was far   
too lovely and friendly for the fate that would likely   
befall her. "Gene loves this cruise line, so I know the   
services like the back of my hand. Try the hair extensions.   
They take a little longer, and they're pretty pricey, but   
your husband will be on you like a cheap suit when he sees   
you with them. Trust me, there's something about the long   
hair that just makes them all horny. I did it a few years  
ago, and Gene humped me like a new bride for weeks. Forget   
to take your birth control and you've got your kid...   
then take the bastard for everything he's got and it won't   
even matter." 

The womens' laughter echoed in the marble room, and Scully  
fleetingly wished it was only that simple. 

 

\----------------------------------

 

Scully was careful not to muss her newly manicured nails  
while she packed away her new clothing. She couldn't believe   
she'd found more to cram into her drawers. She mused that a   
few particularly fun things might have to make it to her   
personal collection after they were done with the case. No   
one would notice, right? 

She'd purchased a sweet little bikini that excited her. In  
the back of her mind, she couldn't wait to show it to Mulder.  
In the rest of her mind, she couldn't believe how much she  
wanted to share with her partner. She was almost giddy,   
feeling the thrill of newness, and for once like a woman.   
Not an agent, a victim, a cancer patient, example or role   
model. Just a woman. Lisa Accardi may have been the drunken  
wife of a mob boss, but she'd given Scully just what she  
needed.

The door opened abruptly, and she recognized Mulder's   
shuffling footfalls at the entryway of the stateroom. He was  
humming under his breath. She could just barely hear it. She  
bit her lip and held her own breath, waiting for the second  
he noticed.

"Oh, hey, Scully... Oh." She almost laughed at his reaction. 

Turning around, she could see the surprise plain on his face.   
He stared at her openly, tilting his head, his mouth poised  
in an 'O'. She thought he looked a little terrified. She was  
waiting for him to leave the room and re-enter, just to get  
a grip on himself."I thought it wasn't you for a second." 

He quietly absorbed the look of the long mane of hair   
falling around her shoulders and back, a little wavy, and if  
he was honest, more than a little sexy. He knew he was   
staring, but he couldn't stop. 

"Do you like it?" He registered that she was speaking to him. 

He cleared his throat loudly in the silent room. "Uh... Yeah.  
I like it... a lot. Is that, uh, is that real?" 

She walked over to him, holding a piece of the hair out for   
him to touch, which he did with no hesitation. "It is real.   
Extensions." 

"Wow. What made you think of that?"

"Its a long story, but Lisa Accardi talked me into them." 

If possible, he looked even more surprised. "You found her?   
And you're now friendly? How did that happen?" 

Scully sent him a purposefully enigmatic smile. "I'll tell   
you what - Its getting late, and our dinner slot is pretty   
early tonight. Since its a formal dinner night, it'll take us   
a little longer to get ready. How about we discuss what we   
found out today over dinner? We'll get a quiet table in the   
corner." 

He'd almost forgotten about their formal dinner. He'd   
forgotten everything at the sight of that hair. "Whatever   
you say, Ma'am!" He watched while she took a plain garment   
bag with her to the bathroom, and thought that work had   
never been quite so surprising, or so much fun. 

 

\------------------------------------

 

He could forgive the discomfort of the monkey suit while she  
was hanging from his arm. He felt a tremendous amount of   
pride as he walked her to the dining hall. The lights around  
the ship somehow seemed more romantic, a little pinker. The   
air felt a little warmer. His partner sudddenly seemed a little   
more like his woman. He was glad she'd withheld the dress from   
him. The anticipation had made the moment of reveal that much   
sweeter. 

It was just the sort of dress he would expect her to pack. It  
was tasteful, and black. It wasn't short, but it fell in a wispy  
cascade to brush her calves and expose the beauty of her ankles.  
The bodice was just low enough to showcase the sparkling   
whiteness of her chest and throat, held up by wide, lacy straps.   
The real surpise was the semi-plunging back, falling below her   
shoulder blades, but not low enough to be considered revealing.   
The mole on her right shoulder blade was driving him crazy. Her   
newly long hair fell onto her bare back and the mole peeked   
through the shiny red sheet just to tease him. He was a bought   
man. Those hair extensions were the most exciting thing he'd seen   
in quite some time. 

"You OK, Mulder?" She whispered to him quietly while they were  
waiting in line to be seated. They were early as usual, but   
apparently not early enough. 

"I'm excellent." He flashed her his best smile, and she was   
gracious enough to blush for him. It was adorable, he thought. 

"So, how was your day?" She asked him casually after they were   
seated. He didn't want to discuss the case while he watched her  
in the intimate candlelight at their table. The dancing light   
across her face was pure magic, and Gene Accardi was the   
farthest possible thing from his mind. 

"Pretty uneventful." He sent her a cryptic look. "I went to the  
gym and coudn't find much to do. Then, I went and showered and  
went to the casino, wasted a hell of a lot of time and money  
at the slots. I sure didn't find what I expected." 

She leaned in closely across the table. "What did you find?" 

"Gallo. He'd been there all night drinking and playing. It was   
a pure accident. He happened to be playing Blackjack at the   
table I went to."

"So, you gained his confidence?"

"That's just the thing." Mulder paused. "He knew who I was.   
He says Accardi has no clue, but he picked us out of the crowd,  
knowing that there were agents on board. He told me I was trying  
too hard; That if I wanted to get in touch with Accardi, I would  
have better luck at the mixer tonight." 

"Wow. Should we be concerned about our cover?" Scully's eyebrows  
rose.

"No. He assured me that he's not interested in rolling over.   
Frankly, he didn't seem like much of a double agent. He just  
wants out of the game."

"Well, I think I might have an in for you with Accardi." Scully   
paused as their food was delivered, waiting for the staff to   
disappear before continuing. "I ran into Lisa by pure coincidence  
today." 

"Yeah... how did you manage that?" He was already cutting into  
his steak.

"Well..." She hesitated. "While I was in the hot tub, I had a   
nosebleed." 

Mulder jumped, swallowing his food and reaching for her hand across   
the table. "Shit, are you OK?" 

"Fine. It just looked bad in the water, and Lisa happened to be   
walking by when I came up out of the water and it started. She   
called for help. It really started a scene, but a little finagling  
blew the whole thing over. Charlie was there to help."

"So, she just followed you to the clinic?" 

"Yeah, basically. She was concerned, and waited until I was finished.  
Honestly, she's ridiculously nice. Very friendly. It wasn't   
difficult to strike up conversation with her. We went to the salon,   
went shopping... normal girl stuff. I think she's a lonely woman." 

"What about this 'in' with Accardi?" 

"Well, when I asked her what her husband did for a living, she  
was vague, said he was into venture capital, basically. I told her   
that I wished my husband would find something similar instead of   
wasting away his trustfund." 

"Ungrateful housewife..." He sent her a mischevious smile. 

"Anyway, she said that she would talk to him and see if he might be  
interested in meeting with you, giving you some pointers and tips.   
So, if Gallo was telling the truth, and Accardi happens to be in  
a party mood tonight, we might strike it big."

"I hope so, but I'm starving." He looked down at his steak again,   
ready to dive back in. "Let's stop the shop talk and eat." 

 

\------------------------------

 

He could see them tucked away in the corner. Man, did he love the  
way she looked. In her little black dress and new long hair, she   
was like a beacon calling to him from across the dining hall. She  
looked so smart, a little sparkplug. Gene didn't think they'd   
noticed he and Lisa slipping in at the last moment. As such, their   
tables were all the way across the dining hall from each other. 

As Gene left to visit the beverage bar, he watched them intently.   
He supposed they looked happy enough together. Comfortable. They   
chattered away quietly, but animatedly, leaning over the table for   
privacy. The candlelight did her all sorts of favors, turning her   
skin gold and her hair into a romantic vermillion. 

Lisa had been going on and on about her nonstop. She was excited to  
have met a new friend -- even more excited to find that she lived in  
the Hamptons, so they would likely see each other periodically. Gene  
was glad his wife had found a worthy companion for their 'vacation'.  
His worry about Lisa and her big mouth was far from leaving his mind.  
If he could just stop her from drinking, he wouldn't have to worry  
so much. What would she do if she found out about his unhealthy  
attraction to her new 'best friend'?

Gene supposed his wife would have to be an idiot to think he hadn't   
had affairs before. She may have been a drunk, but she wasn't   
stupid. The boss was always the first to get the good blowjobs when   
they were getting passed around. Some girls just didn't know what   
was good for them, and that wasn't his fault. He wondered how   
comitted one Dani Kaufman was to her loser of a husband.

According to Lisa, he was required to befriend the man. In his   
line of work, the less you know the better. He knew he wouldn't   
be doing the man any favors. Who knew how that would benefit Gene   
in the long run, but one lonely little housewife could make this   
business vacation a hell of a lot more interesting. It would teach   
his wife not to fuck around with unnecessary friends. 

 

\------------------------------

 

Mulder watched Gene Accardi skulking around the drink bar. The man   
thought he wasn't being watched, clearly intersted in them. More   
specifically, interested in his partner. Mulder watched while the   
other man's eyes took a slow slide down her hair and back. He   
struggled not to let on that he'd seen him. As much as he didn't want   
to use Scully as bait, she was certainly keeping him interested. Now,   
he just had to figure out how to keep her away from the creep. 

"This is really nice, Scully." She looked up from her food, a creamy  
white pasta and shellfish concoction, eyes sparkling. 

She didn't need to answer him, he could tell she was having fun.  
Pinkened lips and cheeks, adorned with a sweet smile, met him. He   
wasn't sure, but he thought there might have been the slightest bit   
of flirtiness in the set of her eyebrows. 

"Thank you for this, Mulder." 

"Thank you for what? I didn't have anything to do with this." He   
waved his nearly-empty wine glass around the dinner hall. 

"Of course you did. You didn't assign us the case, but you chose to  
make this a good experience, for both of us. You've been...   
charming, even when I've been less than good company." 

For once, he made no joke, no sly comeback. He drunk in the vision  
of her, and said, "You charm me every day, Scully." 

And all at once they'd each found the moment. Staring at each other   
in a room full of hundreds of people they didn't know. The moment   
when the world narrowed just a bit, and they were filled with   
the mutual feeling that their lives would never quite be the   
same after this night. 

"Sounds like the band is getting started..." Mulder sucked down the  
rest of his wine with gusto. "Care to dance, Mrs. Kaufman?" 

The dance floor was in a semi-detached hall adjacent to the dining  
hall. It was an opulent room, just as the rest of the ship was, with   
carved wood etchings and classical styling. The band was playing   
classics as well, a big-band style row setting with horns. Scully   
couldn't identify what they were playing, but recognized the easy   
swing style. She appreciated the whimsy of it, enjoying the faster   
dance - she and Mulder had so seldom danced together, it was a   
pleasure to just have fun with him. 

He was no dance-star, but his fine New England breeding peeked out  
just a little as he swung her gently around the dance floor. He   
made no showy moves, but they were solid and confident, and he   
never left her wondering in which direction they were headed. Heart  
pounding and finding trouble breathing, she giggled as they   
shimmied themselves around. It ocurred to her that it had been   
quite some time since she'd enjoyed herself in something so simple  
as dancing. Just like swimming, it tended to chase her inner   
demons away rather fabulously.

The music slowing and melding seemlessly into the next song, Mulder  
brought her hand up to rest on his chest. He didn't want to choke  
the hand, but wouldn't let it go, either, enjoying the feel of   
their entwined hands just above his jumping heart. He looked at   
her with a special sparkle, one she hadn't quite seen before.   
Somehow, his eyes looked deeper. He smiled gently while they eased   
into a simple swaying waltz. 

"I love you." He said it first. He said it simply, and it felt like  
the most natural thing for Scully to hear. It felt as though he'd   
been saying it to her for years. She supposed he had been, but   
never aloud. Her heart pounded, her stomach turned, and she   
suddenly had difficulty controlling her feet. 

"Excuse me." Both agents turned at the abrupt voice beside them.   
Gene Accardi stood beside them, his most charming smile pasted on.   
Mulder fought the urge to roll his eyes at the man's bold move.   
"May I cut in with the lovely lady?" 

Scully looked to Mulder, feeling his tense shoulders and knowing   
that he was struggling to pick his words wisely. She wanted to   
remind him that their plan made it necessary for them to be in a  
supposedly unhappy relationship. Declarations of love on a dance  
floor didn't quite jive. She pasted on a smile of her own   
and nodded. "Of course." 

 

\--------------------------

 

The dance with Accardi had been anything but charming. He was a   
rather poor dancer, succeeding in manhandling her around the   
dance floor. Scully supposed some women probably appreciated the   
hands-on approach, but she was certain that regulation couples'  
dancing didn't require his hand to find its way to her ass before  
the end of the song. She did her best to tolerate it, but make it  
clear that she was not open for business. 

"So, what do you do, Dani?" His voice was deep and, he probably  
thought, romantic. 

"I don't work, Mr. Accardi. I do chair a few committees and   
charities, though. A woman's got to stay busy." 

"Hm... Sounds wonderful." She almost laughed while he pretended  
to be interested in anything she had to say. "And how long have  
you and your husband been together?" 

"Five years. And years before that." It hadn't been part of the   
plan, but she couldn't help but tack it on... it was like a   
security blanket. 

"Does he treat you well? You seem so... bored, to me." He   
pasted on that irritating smile again. Scully was repulsed. 

"We've had our problems." It was painful for her to say. She felt  
like she was betraying something. "But he's my husband. He   
deserves the best." 

"Lisa told me he doesn't work. That it bothers you." 

She made like she was backtracking. "I don't know if I said it   
bothers me. I would just like him to find something to occupy his  
time." 

Accardi looked like he was thinking long and hard. Beneath his   
romantic bravado, she could see the cold, calculating mind behind  
the man. Suddenly it wasn't quite so difficult for her to believe  
he'd had a hand in terrible things. 

"I do a lot of business in the Hamptons." Gene's eyes were hooded,  
and his voice quieted. "I'll talk to your husband tonight. I'm sure  
I can give him some tips." 

Scully couldn't help but wonder where Lisa was. She hadn't seen   
the woman once that night. Why would she allow her husband to dance  
so cavallierly with another woman? 

"Thank you, Mr. Accardi. That would be wonderful." This time, they  
both plastered on the fake smiles. "I better be finding my husband.   
Where can he find you?" 

"Tell him to meet me in the Casino tonight. I'll be there most of  
the evening." Suddenly, the man's smile looked shark-like, his dark  
eyes almost black in the dim light. For the first time since they'd  
taken the assignment, Scully felt like they might be in a little   
farther than was safe. 

 

\----------------------------

End, Chapter IV


	3. III

Blood in the Water  
by Tessa Moore

See part I for headers

 

Chapter V

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

"Mister Kaufman! A pleasure and an honor..." Gene Accardi appeared  
to be several kinds of wasted as he waved Mulder into the booth  
beside him. To Mulder's surprise, the booth was full of men of all  
ages, all unfamiliar to him. All were dressed professionally, in a  
Men-in-Blackesque wardrobe that might have made him chuckle under  
different circumstances. Mulder wondered just how heavy Accardi's  
presence was on the boat, and how many associates Intel had failed  
to account for. 

The man was surrounded by seeming protection, all of the men near  
by the table bristling at the presence of an outsider. All watched  
Gene intently. The casino was bustling, the bells and alarms  
chiming loudly across the room, yet no one paid heed to the brood  
of mobsters tucked away in the corner. Except for one lone waiter,  
standing in the corner just in view of Accardi's table. The man  
looked forward only, like a sworn Yeoman at attention.

"Gentlemen..." Gene nodded to his counterparts, sunken eyes  
lingering on Maxwell Gallo as he sucked down the remainder of his  
brandy. "If you could excuse Mr. Kaufman and I for a few moments,  
we have some private business to attend to." 

Scully had warned him that Accardi sounded particularly dangerous  
that night. He had no doubt. Suddenly, in his own element and with  
no strangers to fool or impress, the man was a viper. Despite his  
obvious drunkenness, his eyes looked just a little meaner, a little  
blacker, his teeth a little sharper. His smile a little more  
menacing. It was downright frightening. 

"Thank you for seeing me." Mulder started plainly, smiling a bit,  
attempting the look of the unoffending boob he was supposed to be.  
He would beg off of Accardi's offers a bit, hedge at the thought  
of work of any kind. The man had to believe he was lazy. Mulder  
really didn't want to find out what an Accardi business initiation  
looked like, and he wasn't interested in tests.

Gene whistled at the waiter, still standing in the corner. A quick  
lift of his finger, and the man was off to refill his brandy.  
Mulder took note that everyone else had to go to the bar for their  
drinks. It would seem that Gene wasn't picking up the tab. "So,  
your wife tells me you're looking for... some work opportunities." 

"I wouldn't say that...." Mulder trailed off. It all felt a little  
too 'Godfather' or him. It was surreal, and suffocating. 

"Look, Pal." Gene leaned over, wagging his finger at Mulder. "A  
good man takes care of his wife. I don't care where your money  
comes from, what kind of class-A toilet paper you use to wipe  
your extra-shitty little lilly-white ass with, or nothin'. Family  
comes first, my man. You gotta keep the lady happy upstairs, or  
else she stops sellin' tickets to the basement show, am I right?" 

Mulder resisted an eyeroll while Accardi bellowed a laugh loud  
enough to turn heads in the casino. He shrugged off the other  
man's joke, and purposely wheedled. "I don't see your point.  
Besides, what concern is MY wife to you?" 

This time, the laugh was more like a cackle. Accardi threw his  
head back freely, gasping for air before suddenly fixing Mulder  
with a hardened gaze. He was suddenly devoid of humor "Your wife  
ain't stupid, dipshit. Smart little cookie - you really should  
know better. She knows you're going to run out funds eventually;  
You get it?." 

Mulder nodded. "What are you suggesting?" 

"Come work for me. You'll never run out of money, kid." Gene  
looked away to accept his newly poured drink from the waiter, who  
dutifully returned to his corner, never making eye contact with  
any of the nearby patrons. 

Mulder sighed, looking at the men in suits crowding the bar. They  
were watching their conversation with unnatural curiosity, as  
though they were well aware of the 'private business' they were  
discussing. It all seemed far too easy, and Mulder felt a knot of  
nervousness wrench his gut. How was he supposed to turn an offer  
down? He should never have come to the casino. "I don't know..." 

"Tell you what, Princess. You decide overnight. I'll give you  
some time to grow some balls. but don't you pretend like I didn't  
try to do you a fuckin' favor. And I don't want to see your ass  
again if you're not all in. IF you're not as stupid as you look,  
you'll meet me at the dock when we port tomorrow. Then shit gets  
real. You understand?" 

Mulder nodded silently. Actually, he felt sick. Was the exchange  
going down a full two days earlier than Intel had anticipated, or  
was this going to be just the test he'd been trying to avoid? He  
didn't like the feel of it; That much he knew. He pulled himself  
from the booth, feeling that he'd been dismissed. Accardi's  
associates began working their way back to the booth, crowding  
him out. 

"Oh, and Kaufman --" Mulder turned, watching the yellow light  
play on Gene's greasy forehead. He could have been the villain in  
any big-budget film, such an effective Mobster cliche he was.  
"Don't tell the wife. Those broads just don't know how to keep  
their traps shut." 

 

\------------------------------------

 

"There you are!" Scully shouted over to Lisa Accardi, waving while  
she approached the other woman. The boat was ablaze with lights and  
noise, cruise-goers taking full advantage the party atmosphere.  
Lisa, however, was slouched at a deck bar, tear tracks drying  
mascara-black on her face. She was still elegant in her white formal  
dress, but had a look of unsuppressable sadness. 

Forgoing more comfortable shoes and a chance to sit down, Scully had  
sent Mulder off to meet with Gene Accardi while she hunted down the  
man's wife. A large cruise ship being what it was, it took some time  
to find the other woman. It was difficult for a woman of her stature  
to see through waves of undulating bodies and eager drinkers. Scully  
couldn't let it go, though - Why would a woman disappear and hide at  
the sight of her husband with another woman? Lisa hadn't mentioned  
any particular insecurities, but even being somewhat "fast-friends",  
she'd only known the woman a day. 

Lisa attempted a wan smile when she saw her friend approaching,  
hurriedly wiping her eyes and sipping at her long-forgotten fruity  
cocktail. "How are you, Dani?" 

"Shouldn't you be cutting a rug with that husband of yours?" Scully  
did her best to sour thoughs of Gene off her face, and settled for a  
cheerful, neutral tone of voice. 

Lisa winced, more tears falling unbidden. "You should know better  
than anyone that he has absolutely no interest in doing anything  
with me." 

"Okay. I assume you saw us dancing." Scully sighed, considering the  
best course of action. Clearly, Lisa had seen Gene pawing at her ass  
like a drunken frat boy. "Perhaps he could be a more polite dance  
partner. I'm sorry." 

Lisa nodded. "I should have known. He likes to have affairs with  
friends of mine. It's, like, a thing with him. I think it gives him  
some sick sense of power... Like he's taking something away from me.  
He loves the fact that I know about it, but won't say anything. Son  
of a Bitch."

Finally settling herself on the empty barstool next to lisa, Scully  
settled a placating hand on the other woman's wrist, ready for some  
serious damage control. "I just hope you know that I have no interest  
in your husband. I'm very much in love with my own, even if he  
frustrates the hell out of me on occasion." It occurred to her that  
it was startlingly simple to declare both her love for her partner.  
Just as easy as it was declaring her frustration. 

"It worries me, Dani. You've only known Gene for a day. You don't  
know what he's capable of."

Scully's brows furrowed. "Capable of, Lisa?"

"There are women who seem to enjoy his pawing; In fact, there never  
seems to be a shortage. Those friends of mine that he's slept with;  
I've never seen any of them again, after I found out about it. He uses  
them, and then they magically disappear. It scares the shit out of me,  
Dani." Tears rolled fiercely down Lisa's face, and Scully's heart  
dropped. Was Lisa really telling her what she thought she was? 

"Who knows when you might run into one of those girls in passing.  
Maybe there was just a misunderstanding." Scully could barely control  
her breathing. She needed to talk to Mulder - Immediately.

"I hope so...I think I've said too much." Lisa sniffed, standing and  
gathering her purse. "Itls getting late - I better let you find your  
own husband. Thank you for listening, Dani." 

Lisa leaned in and collected a hug from Scully. The hug was tight,  
and felt almost desperate. Scully couldn't help the continued chill  
coursing through her spine. Something was very wrong.

Lisa disengaged from the hug and stared at Scully hard. "Please be  
careful. There's a lot you don't know about Gene. There's a lot  
you don't know about me." 

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

"Joey." Gene Accardi waved the young associate over to where he and  
his posse still sat in the back of the casino. Joey was an eager, good  
looking Italian boy; Did a great job with the Min Yang situation. He  
would go far. Gene and his men were ready for business the next day.  
He just had one loose end to tie up. "I want you to get ahold of my  
friend Paul Fuocco at home. Ask him to put some feelers out -- see if  
anyone in the Hamptons knows anything about Mr. Kaufman. Real asshole.  
Someone will remember him." 

"Sure, Boss." Joe was from a long line of 'private' money men. After  
Joe did his part to fix the fuck-up in Syracuse, Gene could rest  
assured that the young man would do whatever he asked. "I'll have  
what you need tomorrow afternoon." 

"Not good enough. Make it snappy." Gene emptied his brandy. He couldn't  
remember how many he'd had. "I want to know all about the son of a  
bitch before he joins us tomorrow. Tax returns, family, friends, the  
results of his last prostate exam. Thorough, you get it? Guy doesn't  
walk around the Hamptons with a piece of ass wife without getting  
noticed."

Joe nodded and scampered off without further word. 

Gene turned to the other men inhabiting the booth. "Mr. Kaufman might  
make a great new associate for the northern part of the state. But we  
need to test him. I've got a feeling things aren't what they seem."  
The men all nodded. "Max, when we get to the island, I want you to  
escort Mrs. Kaufman to the holding room at the 'office', you  
understand? Same place as last time. Take Lisa, too. I'm sure they'll  
be very happy together. I swear to God, that woman is all Lisa can talk  
about. Sit on 'em for a while, until I get there." 

"But, Gene..." Max stammered. 

"Do what I ask, God Damnit!" Gene slammed his empty snifter into the  
table. When he noticed his shout caught the attention of other patrons  
of the casino, Gene lowered his voice. "I don't need any distractions,  
and neither does Mr. Kaufman. And my wife needs to be taught a lesson.  
Don't worry about it, Max. I'll join you shortly after we take our  
little tour." 

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

"She really hinted that those women were murdered?" They sat on the  
large stateroom bed together, but still in their formals and  
exhaustedly propped against the headboard. Neither had the energy to  
get up as they hurriedly considered their challenges for the next  
day. Mulder looked to Scully. 

"She said she's never seen any of them again, and then she warned  
me against getting involved with Gene. She said it's happened several  
times, and it sounded like more than a simple misunderstanding or  
hysteria to me. She also mentioned that these affairs with her friends  
seemed to be more than coincidental; That Gene takes some sort of  
perverse pleasure from sleeping with her friends because he knows she  
won't say anything about it. I think she's legitimately frightened of  
him. We need to get in touch with Skinner, and get his take on things.  
This opens up a whole new avenue of investigation." Scully sighed in  
frustration, and rolled her head. Mulder shuddered at the sound of  
cracking bones. He hated it when she did that. 

"It would mean putting Accardi away for life rather than 10 to 20 for  
Racketeering and Trafficking. But we have no back-up, and I'm not  
comfortable sending you in to feel him out knowing what may have  
happened to these other women. We need names." She saw him glance at  
her dress slowly, taking it in again. His eyes suddenly looked  
lonely and dark. 

"There's a big difference between killing drug dealers who know  
they're working with the mob and killing innocent women who think  
they're the apple of a handsome man's eye, Mulder." Scully shook her  
head, disturbed. "It's sick." 

"It's not that I don't agree with you, Scully. I think it needs to  
be pursued, sooner rather than later. But tomorrow we have a  
potentially explosive situation, and we need to handle that first.  
We'll call Skinner in a few hours, see what he wants us to do. I  
have a bad feeling about this." 

Scully nodded in agreement, forcing herself from the bed. Since  
when had Mulder become the voice of reason? "I've had a bad feeling  
ever since I danced with him, Mulder. The man is dangerous; There's  
no questioning it. I'm going to get cleaned up. I'll be right back." 

He watched her on her way to the bathroom, once more enchanted by  
the tangle of glorious hair tumbling down her back. He wasn't sure  
he would ever get over that hair. He also found himself wondering  
if he should be kicking himself over his little dance-card  
confession. How could one cruise be so downright awful, yet so  
damned wonderful?

 

\----------------------------------------

 

"I can't sleep." Mulder plopped himself onto his side, tired of  
fighting for what would only be a couple hours anyway. He didn't  
need to ask if she was awake. He could feel her thinking. "What the  
hell are we going to do, Scully?" 

"I don't know, Mulder." Her voice was quiet and tired, but he knew  
she was no more capable of sleep than he. 

"I love this." Mulder reached for her hair in the dark. He couldn't  
help it - it lay pressed up against his pillow, shimmering in the  
moonlight. In the blue hue of the room, the hair shone a deep  
burgandy. He rubbed the silk between his fingers, marveling that  
it was not her own hair. 

He was surprised when Scully scoffed, turning to face him. The same  
moonlight shone against the side of her face, but failed to light  
her eyes. "You know, my hair's been falling out like crazy. It's  
the meds. I know it won't all fall out, but when I wake up, its on  
the pillow. When I shower, it clogs the drain. Its sort of nice to  
have an overabundance of hair. Impractical as hell... but nice."

"Screw practicality, Scully. Where has it gotten you so far?"  
Mulder teased." 

"Yeah..." She was still so achingly serious. "I'm beginning to see  
that." 

He smiled wanly, though he knew she wouldn't see it. Turning into  
her, he twined his fingers into her real hair, close to the scalp.  
It was finer, smoother, more familiar. He felt as though he needed  
reassure himself that it was still there - one of many signs that  
she was still alive. His heart hammered against his ribs while he  
turned her face up and laid a gentle peck on her lips. He was  
pleasantly surprised when her hands came to his shoulders and she  
embraced him tightly while returning the kiss with utter  
fullness. 

He followed the pull of her arms, coming to rest partially on top  
of her. The kiss was gentle, sloppy, lips sliding and twisting,  
happily exploring. Mulder could feel her teeth gently tugging on  
his lip while he took his hand out of her hair and brought it down  
to rest beside her waist, holding himself up in an attempt not to  
crush her. Not for the first time in the years he'd known her, he  
boggled a bit at her delicate build. When he brought a hand to her  
face, the expanse of his hand could easily engulf her face. He  
sometimes forgot that the biggest thing in his life could be  
described as 'little'. 

The long kiss was the sweetest juxtaposition of familiar and new.  
The familiarity of her fingers brushing across his shoulders while  
her unfamiliar, but very welcome, breasts crushed to his chest. He  
recognized her smell, but also detected something new beneath it -  
the scent that came with being closer to her than he'd been before.  
The feeling of his familiar four year fantasy crashing into the  
better reality in front of him. 

Finally separating, Mulder could feel her panting beneath him, and  
he wished he could better see her. He could just make out her smile,  
her teeth flashing in the blue light from the window.

"Hi." She said it lightly, her woefulness seemingly forgotten. 

"Hi." He smiled back, tickling her side where his hand rested. He  
was pleased at the unexpected snort that escaped her, followed by  
a genuine belly laugh. 

He couldn't help himself - he bent to drop fluttering kisses along  
her throat. A soft gasp from her told him he was on the right track.  
Encouraged, he pulled the collar of her pajama top aside to lick  
and nip at her shoulder. The gasp morphed into a low moan. "Just  
take it off..." 

He bypassed the tricky buttons on her pajama top and whipped the  
garment over her head in one quick motion. He decided he liked  
Scully best in pajamas. Pajamas meant an alluring lack of bra  
underneath, and he found himself enraptured by the sight of her  
breasts. God help him if the light had been good - he might have  
passed out, he was so excited about his uninterrupted view. As it  
was, he gazed at them like a man who had found his Mecca. In a way,  
he had. 

When he looked back up at her face, he could see the uncomfortable  
twist of her features in the half-light. She was playing shy, and he  
loved it. He reminded her, "You are so beautiful." 

She welcomed him back to her arms eagerly when he fell back to her,  
tangling his hands back into her hair. He wouldn't remember much  
too specifically after that very moment, but would recall the nearly  
unbearable sense of intimacy he felt as her leg crept up his and her  
toe hooked into his boxers. The way she slid them down was endearing  
and eerily practiced, he thought. 

It was a panicked slide off a slippery slope and crash into a tangle  
of limbs as they hurriedly divulged each other of any remaining  
clothes. But he would always recall the way she felt, as he slid into  
her more slowly and carefully than he'd done anything in his life,  
wanting the moment to expand, or for time to simply stand still. He  
found such belonging in her embrance, want in her hips, and a sense  
of utter fulfillment. 

After all was said and done, it suddenly seemed much easier to  
sleep. 

 

\----------------------------------------------

End Chapter V

 

Blood in the Water  
Chapter VI

 

"Yes, Sir... I'm sorry to bother you so early." Mulder watched Scully  
across the stateroom while he half-listened to Skinner yammering his  
morning greeting. He could hear the man hurriedly shuffling out of  
his sheets, and cringed at the mental image. Dressed in nothing but  
a robe and pinkened cheeks, his partner, however, was a vision at sea.  
He only wished their timing had been better. "We've come across a  
significant development, Sir. And a problem." 

Scully looked toward him, a piece of toast half-hanging from her  
mouth while she listened intently to his side of the conversation.  
She could hear Skinner speaking faintly through the satellite phone. 

"Yes, Sir. We have reason to believe Accardi is responsible for the  
murders of multiple women, all described as being close friends of Lisa  
Accardi's. She's alluded to these women disappearing altogether after  
having had an affair with her husband." 

Skinner sighed, and took a moment to absorb the information. "Is it  
possible the women simply didn't want anything to do with him? Getting  
caught in an affair with your friend's husband isn't exactly a winning  
moment in a woman's life. Do we have names?" 

"I'm sorry, Sir. We're working on that, but according to Agent Scully,  
Mrs. Accardi was in extreme distress. We feel this is worth looking  
into further." He glanced at Scully before continuing. "Unfortunately,  
we've moved into a somewhat precarious position with the Accardi's. I  
have an invitation to join Gene Accardi for some 'business' today. You  
can imagine my apprehension." 

There was a long silence on the other end. "This wasn't supposed to  
happen, Agent Mulder." 

"I know, Sir. Our attempts to remain in the company of the Accardis  
naturally led to this development. In any case, I have reason to  
suspect at least some business is being conducted out of San Juan. We  
dock there later this morning, and Accardi has asked me to join him  
along with some associates who are also on the boat. The boat is  
swarming with his people - way more than Intelligence is aware of. I  
don't believe our cover has been compromised, but I'd rather not let  
this escalate to that point." 

"Listen to me very carefully, Agent Mulder. You and Agent Scully need  
to tread very lightly. We can't afford for this to go badly - the  
crime and corruption in Puerto Rico are considerable. It may be a US  
territory, but it may as well be on the other side of the world,  
legally. If you need help, notify the Puerto Rico Department of  
Justice immediately. I'll make them aware of your presence just as  
soon as I hang up with you." Skinner's voice, though stony,  
relayed his concern. "I want you to disappear, at the first viable  
opportunity. Whatever you do, neither you or Agent Scully are to get  
back on that boat. I will come get you." 

"Absolutely, Sir." Mulder nodded, still watching Scully as she  
finished her breakfast. "Is there any possibility that your alerting  
officials to our presence could lead to an unnecessary attempted bust?  
It could ruin our case, Sir, and put Agent Scully and myself in  
significant jeopardy." 

"You let me worry about that, Agent. Keep this phone with you. I will  
be there within 6 hours." Neither said goodbye as the line was cleared. 

"What did he think?" Scully cleared her throat. 

"He'll put men on the murder angle. He's alerting the Puerto Rico  
Department of Justice to our presence. He wasn't happy; We're off the  
case, and he's coming to get us." 

Scully chuffed. "I don't blame him. I'm extremely uncomfortable with  
the direction this is taking, Mulder. I can't help but think we're  
walking off this ship and directly into a trap -- counting on a boat  
to get us off the island and home safely simply isn't an option. We  
screwed up. I should have never mentioned anything about money to  
Lisa. It was a terrible way to stay in their graces." 

"Look; This is the plan we came up with together. We need to play it  
cool and wait for Skinner to get here. He said 6 hours. I really don't  
see that we have any other choice. If we ignore Gene's offer, we risk  
making ourselves way more suspicious, and he's liable to track us  
down. I have no doubt that Accardi has foot soldiers all over this  
damn island. We're going to have to take every precaution, and wait  
for a moment to quietly walk away and get some help." Mulder sighed  
and walked over to join her at the table. 

Scully nodded, and he could see the upset in her features. Her head  
downturned, her mouth pouting somewhat - he felt guilt creeping up on  
him. He kneeled where she sat and tipped her head up, dropping an  
affectionate kiss to her forehead. 

"I know there isn't time to discuss it, Scully. And we could have  
found a better time than last night..." He cleared his throat and  
smiled up at her. "But last night was the best night of my life, plain  
and simple. This isn't going to turn into one of those things we never  
talk about, is it?" 

"You're right, this isn't the time to talk about it. And last night  
was a terrible idea. We behaved irresponsibly - we don't need this  
distraction." He looked devastatingly crestfallen at her words. She  
smiled widely, and he squinted in confusion. "But, I love you, in  
spite of our bad timing. You do know what you're getting into,  
right?." 

She spoke lightly, but he knew what she was getting at. "None of that  
matters, Scully." 

 

\------------------------------------------

 

The beautiful view of the island was entirely tainted by their mutual  
feelings of impending doom. They'd grimly dressed themselves and gone  
about their usual morning machinations. Neither bothered leaving the  
stateroom. Their need for visibility had long passed, and the charm  
of the cruise had officially worn thin. 

Neither spoke of their actions the night before, either. A hefty  
amount of guilt settling over them, Mulder and Scully had decided it  
best to not discuss until they were out of the messy situation facing  
them. Therefore, they were in 'Let's pretend it never happened' mode.  
That worked - it was comfortable for them. Mulder stuffed a small  
pistol into his ankle holster and watched while Scully shoved her  
service weapon into an over-sized purse. A smiling pink flamingo  
peeked out from behind cartoonish leaves, ruining the side of an  
otherwise perfectly nice bag. 

"I wish you could wear your holster. It'll take you a year to find  
anything in that purse. Did I help pick that thing out for you? Its  
hideous." 

"Ha-ha, Mulder. A holster is too obvious, and this is going to be a  
lot handier than trying to tape it somewhere on my body." 

"I'd be happy to help you tape it to your inner thigh." His eyes  
raked over her body, and he ignored her eyeroll. "You might need to  
think about wearing a skirt, though."

"I'm not running around a tropical island in a skirt and heels,  
Mulder." She looked down at her tasteful linen khaki's. She looked  
like any rich woman about to take a liesurely tour of an island. He  
quite enjoyed the look of her tiny, painted toenails peeking out of  
her sandals. "This thing with Skinner's going to be a real shitstorm,  
you know."

Mulder smiled at her, though a little sadly. "Let's just focus on  
staying alive long enough to get out of here... Then Skinner can have  
his wicked way with us back in DC."

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Kaufman!" Gene's friendly persona was back in  
place, and Mulder could see that he was putting on a show for the  
women. As the other man's eyes laid on Mulder, his look was one of  
fiery control. The two men exchanged enthusastic handshakes before  
Gene walked himself over to lay a peck on Scully's cheek. Lisa then  
embranced her in a desperate hug, saying nothing. 

"Glad you could join us for some fun today. As promised, Mrs.  
Kaufman," Gene's smile was a little wolfish. "I've got some plans for  
your husband. When I'm done with him, he's gonna be a whole new man.  
I was wondering if you'd mind us taking care of a little business  
while you ladies tour the island." 

Scully faked a grateful smile, squinting into the sun. How was it  
that they always ended up getting separated? "Wonderful! I can't  
begin to thank you enough." 

"Well, let's be on our way, then. My friend, Max, is going to escort  
you ladies, and I'll be back with Mr. Kaufman a little later." 

Accardi didn't wait for an answer from anyone before he turned,  
clapping Mulder on the back. He ushered the other man directly into  
the back of a black Lincoln then walked around the other side of the  
car to sit in the passenger side. The street was full of cruise  
patrons, vendors, and other tourists. It wasn't long before Gene's  
nondescript Towncar blended into the distance. Scully's stomach  
turned a little when she saw Maxwell Gallo waving Lisa over. The man  
didn't even bother with a smile, hunching grimly next to his own  
black Lincoln. 

"We don't have any choice, do we, Max?" Lisa stared down the older  
man, looking superemely irritated. Lisa wasn't a particularly tall  
woman, but in her heels, she was eye to eye with the small man while  
she sought out an honest answer from him. 

"No, Ma'am. I've been instructed to take whatever measures necessary  
to get you to your intended location. Both of you. Please get in the  
car." Scully was surprised at Max's regretful, gentle tone of voice.  
He seemed genuinely upset by his assignment, and to have a genuine  
respect and like for Lisa Accardi. 

Lisa sighed. "Just get in the car, Dani. My husband's an asshole." 

Scully did as instructed, clutching her purse to her chest tightly  
while the three silently rode to their mystery destination. She  
could see Max checking on her from the rearview mirror every few  
moments. Lisa, meanwhile, sulked in the back seat next to her. What  
was it that Lisa thought her husband was doing?

"I'm sorry, but what's going on here, Lisa?" Scully posed the  
question as innocently as she knew how. 

"Every now and then, he does this. I don't know why, but he'll have  
one of his 'men' hold on to me while he conducts his business, like  
I'm some kind of toddler who can't take care of herself." Lisa  
pouted.

"That's not what's going on here, Lisa. I need for you to stay quiet,  
and I'll explain everything when we get where we're going. Just a  
couple minutes, ok?" Gallo was trying to placate the woman. Scully  
realized that she wasn't familiar with Mob behavior, but Max's quiet  
persona wasn't exactly what she'd expected of him. While 'weasley'  
was the word that came to mind, in the presence of Lisa Accardi, the  
man was a softspoken wallflower. Scully continued to worry about  
Mulder. If Accardi didn't want her anywhere near this 'business' they  
were conducting, it had to be dirty. And Gene was sure as hell no  
softspoken wallflower. 

Though San Juan was beautiful, with its bright stacked buildings and  
stone streets, lovely tourists and restaurants, the trip was nothing  
more than a 10 minute panic session for Scully. Her stomach was  
flip-flopping in a most unappealing way while she continued to hug  
her ugly flamingo purse, just in case. Lisa had moved beyond pouting.  
Now she just looked pissed, tapping her fingers and snapping gum. 

It wasn't long before the towncar came to a stop in an alleyway next  
to an entirely abandoned building. The whole block appeared to be  
abandoned. There was little noise in the area. Scully remembered  
hearing about the large number of abandoned buildings in Puerto Rico,  
and how the government was looking to find a way to reinhabit them  
or knock them down to help the war on crime. To avoid the very thing  
that was likely to happen to her. 

Scully tried to hold her purse normally while Gallo ushered her and  
Lisa into the building, fighting her desire to pull her weapon and  
end the entire charade. She had Mulder's safety to consider, too.  
Max knew who they were, even if he didn't know their names. He was  
an unknown factor at this point. The small man didn't appear rushed  
or upset. He simply escorted them into the belly of the building.  
Finally, he told them to stop in a room with no windows facing the  
street. There was debris all over the floor, chipped paint, evidence  
of rodents. 

"What the fuck is going on here, Max?" Lisa was livid. 

"Lisa..." Max pulled the small handgun from his pocket, though he  
didn't bother pointing it at anyone. Lisa still backed up a couple  
steps. "Why don't you ask your friend?"

This time, Scully's heart did a swan dive directly into her stomach.  
She coughed, trying not to choke on her own spit. 

"What?" Lisa whispered angrily. "What kind of shit are you trying to  
pull, Max? She is my friend."

"She's a Federal Agent, Lisa. She's here because Gene's so fucking  
stupid, he's going to get us all killed. I called them." Max  
shuffled from foot to foot while Lisa's angry gaze settled on Scully.  
Scully held off looking at the other woman as long as she could. She  
could feel the anger radiating and coming to rest on her. 

"You lied to me? I thought you could be a friend, and you turn out  
to be a fucking bitch like all the rest." Lisa didn't need to say  
much. The fury in her eyes was more than enough. She turned on Max.  
"And you -- Gene trusts you, Max. How could you do this to him?" 

"I'm sorry, Lisa." Scully decided simple was best, while Max  
doged Lisa's question. 

"You're sorry? You're going to send my husband to fucking prison,  
break up my family, maybe send me to prison, too... and you're  
fuckin' sorry, huh?" She huffed. "Look at me." 

Scully looked the other woman square in the eye. "I'm doing my job,  
Lisa. I'm trying to protect you, and if I can at all help it, you  
will never see the inside of a jail cell. Please understand that  
your husband is responsible for some very serious criminal  
activity. He is a very dangerous man." 

Lisa shook her head, her shoulders slumping, this time tears  
beginning to fall. "I know he is. And I've known it for a long  
time, which is why I'm going to go to prison. I've never done  
anything about it. But he's my husband." 

Max interrupted. "I'm sorry to sound like an asshole, but we've  
got bigger fish to fry. No one's going to fucking prison if Gene  
kills you both, and I know he plans on coming back to get rid of  
Mrs. Kaufman, or whatever the hell your name is." 

"And you plan on helping him, Max?" Lisa challenged her captor, who  
looked at his gun woefully. Max may have been self-serving, but he  
was no killer.

"I swear to God I will not harm either of you. But I need you. I  
need you to be here long enough for Gene to come back and see that  
I've done what was asked of me. Then, I'll leave - and I'll never  
come back. I've gotta live, too, Lisa." Max shook his head agrily.  
"Why has Gene got to be such a fuckin' moron? You --" 

Max pointed his gun on Scully, and her hand moved a little closer  
to the opening of her purse. "My name is Dana. Dana Scully." 

"I know you have a gun in that purse." Max pointed at the purse  
with the barrel of his own gun. "No sense in pretending. Don't  
take it out. Yet."

Scully's hand involuntarily tightened around the bag, and Lisa  
turned to look at her, examining the purse from a few feet away,  
as though she could see inside it. Suddenly, the cheesy flamingo  
embarrassed her.

"I want you to keep it. And use it, just wait until after I'm  
gone. I'm sorry, Lisa, but I don't give a shit about Gene anymore.  
He's out of control." 

Lisa nodded slowly, coming down off her anger. Her voice shook  
when she spoke. "We all do what we have to do, Max." 

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Mulder's bad feeling didn't ease once he got into Gene Accardi's  
black towncar. The mobster pointed out landmarks and played nice,  
and Mulder had a sneaking suspicion the other man was trying to  
relax him into submission. He was in deep shit, and he had a  
feeling Scully was in deep shit, too. If the man had wanted to  
get down to business, he would have already. 

As the car began to move away from the busy tourist trap of the  
shore toward open farmland, Mulder's suspicions were confirmed.  
For whatever reason, Accardi had decided one Billy Kaufman was  
better off dead. More than likely, he would return to wherever  
Gallo had taken the women and finish Scully off, too. Probably  
right in front of his wife. 

"Why don't you cut to the chase, Gene?" Mulder turned to look at  
the other man, sitting casually beside him in the back seat.  
Accardi immediately stopped his prattling and cleared his throat.

"I regret to inform you that my associate was unable to find any  
information on a William Kaufman in the Hamptons, or your wife.  
What are you playing at, asshole?" The jovial man of a moment ago  
was long gone, the deranged look of the night before returning to  
his eyes.

"Fuck you, man." Mulder decided it would be best to speak the  
man's language. "Just because you couldn't find the information  
you wanted IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, you've decided I'm pulling  
something on you? Stop the car. I don't need this..." 

"You listen to me, you little pissant." Accardi grabbed him by  
the collar. "You think I give a fuck what happens to you? I don't  
know you, man. Your wife's a hot piece of ass, and I'd give my  
left nut to bang her, but guess what? After I take you out, I'm  
gonna go find her, and I'm gonna fuck the shit out of her. What  
do you think of that, Mr. Kaufman? Or whoever the fuck you are?" 

Mulder turned away from Accardi, genuinely surprised at his  
outbreak. "Just give me a chance, Gene. I'm not a narc." 

Gene barked out a maniacal laugh, turning to look out the rear  
view window of the car. The rest of his team was following close  
behind, waiting for the inevitable. "In my business, there are  
no second chances, Mr. Kaufman. You think I'm willing to put my  
family and my business in jeopardy for one lousy, spoiled, piece  
of shit, bored out of his mind Richie Rich? You're dreaming. The  
Feds would love a chance at me. No loose ends."

The towncar suddenly veered of the poorly-paved road, heading  
into an unhedged field. There was not a soul in sight. Once out  
of easy view from the road, Accardi and his driver both exited  
the car. Mulder recognized the young driver from the night  
before, but the younger man hadn't been sitting at the table. 

Accardi waved at the driver. "You finish up here, Joe. When  
you're done, do just as I told you and join us at the office  
downtown. Don't bother cleaning up; It'll be a while before  
anyone figures out what happened, here." 

Just as simply, Gene was gone, rushing into the second towncar  
and racing back toward town. The young man who stared at  
Mulder him from the other side of the remaining vehicle didn't  
look one bit concerned or nervous over his assignment. He may  
have been much younger than Mulder, but he was certainly  
not in the same physical condition. Joe was wiry and fresh  
faced, not that tall, and unpossessing of any particular affect  
or identifying mark. 

Mulder was surprised when the young man pulled a large  
switchblade from his pocket, poised to pounce on him. Mulder  
chuffed. "No gun? Isn't that thing a little slow and messy for  
your tastes?" 

Joe smiled back, surprisingly genial. "The clean-up is a bitch,  
but at least I don't have to worry about the cops charging in  
here after some housewife hears a gun go off. But don't worry,  
I've got a back-up if you run." 

Mulder chuckled, then faked a left while leaning to retrieve  
his pistol from the safety of his ankle holster. What had Gene  
been thinking, not checking him for weapons? As he rounded the  
frontside of the car, he had enough clearance to just clip the  
younger man's side. He took the opportunity. 

Joe fell with a grunt, immediately dropping his knife. He  
folded himself around his wound, groaning in agony. Mulder  
knew a flank shot was among the most unpleasant, but he would  
be ok if he could get to a hospital. He wasn't, however,  
particularly gentle when he kicked Joe over onto his back and  
trained his gun on him once again. The knife kicked into the  
field, and Joe's gun retrieved from his waistband, Mulder  
placed a single foot on Joe's torso. 

The younger man's hands went up in surrender. 'Coward', Mulder  
thought. 'That's what happens when you hire toddlers to to  
mens' jobs'. He bent and reached into Joe's inside blazer  
pocket, finding the keys for the towncar. 

"You tell me where my... wife is, and I'll take you back to  
town. You'll be fine if you get medical attention." 

Joe nodded fervently. "The old town. Its hard to miss all  
the trashed buildings." Gasping around the cramping in his  
side, the young man began to slowly drag himself up into a  
sitting position. "I don't know which building it is, but  
the other towncar should be parked right nearby." 

Mulder gestured toward the car and began roughly dragging  
Joe to stand. "Get in the passenger side. You're going to  
stay awake, and you're going to show me how to get there." 

 

\----------------------------------- 

 

Waiting had never been Scully's strong suit, especially  
considering that she was waiting for a man to finish killing  
her partner before he came back to finish her off. She had no  
doubt of Gene's intentions. Maxwell Gallo continued to be an  
unlikely captor -- he appeared almost guilty to be holding  
them. She supposed this wasn't his typical role. His job was  
to lend advice and give orders when necessary - not to  
potentially kill people with his own hands. 

Max was a small man; She could have easily taken him down if  
she'd wanted. But, then what? She had no idea where Mulder  
was, and was unlikely to find out without Accardi's help.  
What was the likelihood that she'd be able to beat Gene into  
submission? She supposed, seeing as she had very little to  
lose, she would have to try. 

"I'm sorry, Dani..." Lisa smiled at her wanly from a few feet  
away. They were standing in the middle of the empty, run-  
down room, all tense, none sitting or moving. "I shouldn't  
have said those things to you. Max is right - Gene is so  
fucking stupid, this was bound to happen eventually." 

"What made you stay with him, Lisa?" Scully was genuinely  
curious. Her question was not judgemental or loud. 

Lisa dropped her head, and Scully could hear her sniff a bit.  
"I'm scared to death of what he could do to me or the kids.  
He could kill me, but there are more miserable things he  
could do to me, and that's what really scares me. Probably  
keep the kids and cut my nose and tongue out, sew me up, and  
send me out to another country to suffer until I finally die.  
He's evil that way, you know?" 

"They're here." Max's grim announcement interrupted their  
solemn conversation. Scully couldn't help the bile that rose  
in her throat a bit. She could hear the car door slam echoing  
through the empty street outside. It served as a grim reminder  
of just what the stakes were in this battle. How the hell did  
she end up in this mess?

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

Mulder peeked away from the road long enough to see Joe  
bleeding profusely in the passenger seat. He was driving  
erratically, even for him, and with every pothole in the  
poorly-kept road, the young mobster grunted in agony. Mulder  
almost felt sorry for the kid. 

"Right up here." Joe pointed weakly as they neared the old  
downtown, where the buildings were long abandoned and sorely  
dilapidated. They looked almost hunched, poised to fall over. 

"Tell me which street." Mulder snarled. He reluctantly slowed  
down to peer down the first narrow street he came to. He didn't  
have to wait for Joe's answer. He could see another black Lincoln  
parked two hundred hards down the street. 

Mulder stepped on the brakes in haste, sending his young prisoner  
flying into the dash board with another grunt. "Sorry." And he  
really was. He didn't speak any further, though, as he sprinted  
from the car and down the ghostly street, not even bothering to  
shut the drivers' side door. If Joe wanted to survive, he would  
drive himself to the hospital. 

Dashing down the pitted cobblestone road with as much speed as  
humanly possible, Mulder almost missed another suited man  
exiting the very building he was headed to. The man turned as  
the clack of Mulder's shoes caught his attention. Service weapon  
already drawn, he waved his arms desperately at Maxwell Gallo,  
not wanting to shout and blow his big surprise entrance. 

To Mulder's utter shock, Max stopped immediately, looking back  
at the building from which he came before waving Mulder into an  
alley across the street. The Maxwell Gallo Mulder found was  
crestfallen and impotent, not quite the disgruntled and uncaring  
man he'd found in the ship casino. 

"You need to hurry, Agent." The consigliere whispered hastily. 

"Why are you running?" Mulder physically invaded the other man's  
space. 

Gallo chuffed. "This is my opportunity. I'm taking it. But you  
need to hurry before Gene takes care of your partner AND his  
wife."

Mulder's brow furrowed. "He plans on harming Lisa?" 

"She knows too much, and she's been getting mouthy about it. Now,  
with the suspicion around you, I think its just convenient. Kill  
three birds with one stone, you know?" 

"You sound concerned." Mulder gave Max his best blank stare. 

Shuffling from foot to foot, Max chose his words carefully. "I  
would never want to see Lisa harmed. She's like family to me, and  
she certainly doesn't deserve this."

To Mulder's utter shock, Gallo ignored his raised gun and dashed  
at full speed out the opposite end of the alley, gone in a flash.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

End, Chapter VI


	4. IV

Blood in the Water  
By Tessa Moore

See part I for headers.

 

Chapter VII

 

The sound of Gene Accardi's laugher wafting through the  
abandoned building was repugnant. It was booming, obnoxious  
laughter, unfitting of the situation. It echoed through the  
empty building's rooms like a bizarre death knell. As the  
man himself rounded the corner, Scully could see that he  
was with one associate, no more. Less witnesses, she  
supposed. 

"Thanks for holding on to the girls for me, Max. I hope no  
one gave you any trouble?" Gene snorted, tickled at his own  
apparent hilarity. "You can head on out. I've sent everyone  
out ahead; I just need to have a little 'chat' with my wife  
and then I'll meet you back on the ship." 

Max didn't waste any time. He shoved his pistol into a  
pocket, and beat a hasty retreat. He did shoot Lisa one  
pained, regretful look before he hit the door, though. The  
sound of his hurried footsteps could be heard through the  
rest of the building. The man accompanying Gene made his  
way to where Max had stood before, effectively blocking the  
only alternate exit from the room. Scully took note that  
the man was a 'bruiser'. Silent but deadly type. He watched  
both women with an air of total passiveness that pissed her  
off. 

"What the hell is going on here, Gene?" Lisa wasn't full of  
fury as she'd previously been, probably out of a sense of  
self-preservation. Rather, she looked at her husband  
earnestly, her voice a harsh whisper. "Don't you think you  
owe me an explanation?" 

"Do I?" Where his wife was doing well to control herself,  
Gene was obviously outraged, his eyes blackened wells.  
"Why you stickin' your nose up in my shit, Lisa? I'm tired  
of listening to you tell me how you know all about it; How  
I need you. How you make me look good. I don't need your  
shit -- that's for sure!" 

"That's your own damn fault. Its your responsibility to  
take care of YOUR business. I'm not psychic, Gene. You're  
making stupid decisions; That's why everyone and his  
brother knows what you're doing." Scully could see the  
hard set of Lisa's jaw. The woman wasn't backing down, and  
for the first time, Scully could see that she could easily  
hold her own with her husband. 

Gene Accardi's arm was out faster than anyone in the room  
could anticipate. With one brutal sweep across the face,  
Lisa was on the ground. Scully winced as she saw the other  
woman's head rebound on a broken chunk of wood. She was  
still conscious, but bobbling and confused. 

"That's why we're here, Lisa. It's time for you to learn  
a little lesson, Sweetheart." Gene looked down on his wife  
with utter chill. There was not a bit of emotion to be  
found in his darkened eyes. He was like a shark moving in  
for the kill. "And that lesson's gonna start with your  
little friend over here." 

Scully clutched her purse a little tighter against her  
side, readying herself for a fight. Gene literally licked  
his lips as he walked closer to her. In a similar quick  
fashion, it was a flash as he pouced on her, grabbing her  
by the back of the neck. His hand was twined painfully in  
her hair. She could feel the heaviness of the weave at  
the base of her skull pulling painfully with his grip.  
Much more pressure, and he was going to rip the woven-in  
hair out, along with her own. 

"You think you're too good for everyone, don't you?"  
Gene's smile was wolfish, his meaty breath falling on her  
face while he spoke. Scully fought back a gag. "You should  
have just fucked me when I was being nice, Baby. I didn't  
want anything to do with that shitbag husband of yours in  
the first place, but I would have sold my nutsack to have  
a chance at you." 

Scully was done playing. She sent Gene a stern look, her  
repulsion flashing in her fiery gaze. As she fully  
anticipated, the blow he dealt her was swift and hard. He  
spared her the sweep he'd given Lisa, and went straight  
in for the kill. His fist came around to catch her  
squarely in the jaw. The force of the blow knocked her  
right off her feet, the cumbersome purse skittering on  
the dirty floor to land nearby Lisa, who was still  
struggling to sit back up. 

Scully was fortunate enough to fall on her stomach,  
missing the same fate that befell Lisa. Her head did  
manage to explode in fury as the trauma of the punch  
sunk in. Her stomach turned at the sight of the trash and  
rodent feces she'd fallen in. She didn't have time to  
contemplate, however, as Gene roughly dragged her back up  
to her feet. His henchman remained in the same spot, a  
look of marked boredom on his face. Scully wished she  
could kick him in the nuts, just to see the expression on  
his face change.

Gene was far from bored. He was shaking Scully like a  
limp noodle. The man was like an overgrown baby, suddenly  
bored with the box that doesn't move or talk back. "I sure  
enjoyed leaving your little bitch of a husband out to die.  
Should be bleeding out right as we speak. How you feel  
'bout that, huh?" He was fishing for a reaction.

When she didn't answer, Accardi pushed her back to the  
floor, not gently, but not hard enough to hurt her. She  
could feel something hard digging into her back and prayed  
it wasn't one of the hundreds of nails she could see  
lying around the room. She had a thing about rusty nails.  
Her frivolous thoughts were instantly washed from her mind  
as Gene's considerable weight settled on her. He was  
straddling her, reaching for her arms. She saw the glint of  
a small knife and assailed the man as best she could in  
her position. 

Elbows and knees lashing out blindly, she could hear his  
labored breathing and grunting, his curses of frustration  
as he tried to gain control over her. Scully attempted a  
good kick to the groin, stunted with her inability to gain  
any sort of leverage. Gene got in one heavy slap across  
her cheek, snapping her head to the side just long enough  
to give him the edge. 

Scully, primarily in surprise, shrieked as the three inch  
switchblade was violently plunged into the soft flesh of  
her upper shoulder. Panting in fury and pain, she felt  
sick as Gene laughed above her. "Now maybe you'll shut up  
and sit still. Bitch." 

A loud click off to her side caught her attention, but  
Scully didn't look away quickly enough to miss the sight  
of a bullet entering the right side of Gene Accardi's  
skull. The messy shot left Scully assaulted with the man's  
blood, along with a healthy dose of skull and brain  
matter, painting a grisly picture across her previously  
pristine clothing and mingling in with the considerable  
blood pouring from her own ugly stab wound. 

Scully grunted when Gene's body came to rest heavily on  
top of her, his heavy shoulder pushing his knife into her  
own shoulder a little farther. The air whooshed from her  
lungs, and she struggled to get a full breath. She looked  
around what was left of the man's head, to see Lisa  
standing, gun still poised in hand, in utter shock. The  
ugly flamingo purse lay at her feet, suddenly even more  
ridiculous than it was to begin with. 

A sudden crash caught the immediate attention of the  
three live people in the room. Scully saw Accardi's  
henchman suddenly jump to life, tearing his wide eyes  
from the broken body of his boss to watch the other  
entrance. 

In his usual fashion, Mulder came bounding around the  
corner, his pistol in hand, ready for action. "Jesus."  
He stopped at the gruesome scene in the room. The debris  
on the floor was rather effectively painted with Gene's  
blood, and he could barely make out Scully's head  
beneath the large man. 

Mulder turned his attention on Gene's associate, who  
looked around him desperately. He could see the large  
man weighing his options while Mulder stared him down,  
his weapon trained firmly on the man. Finally, the big  
man turned on his heels and ran from the room in the  
opposite direction. 

Mulder immediately made his way to Scully, who was  
grunting from beneath the hulking man splayed on top  
of her. "Shit." He cursed under his breath, eyes  
goggling at the open skull lying just inches from his  
partner's face. "Scully, are you ok?" 

"Yeah, but I can't breathe." She was panting, in pain  
and breathlessness. 

Mulder turned when he saw Lisa move. The other woman  
looked down at Scully's service weapon, as if suddenly  
realizing what she'd done. The gun clattered to the  
floor, before Lisa sat down, shockiness evident in her  
movements. Mulder ignored her momentarily while he  
rolled the body of Gene Accardi off his partner. 

"How much of this is your blood, Scully?" She was  
drenched. 

She was still panting, but immediately sat up as she was  
relieved of the weight on top of her. She gestured to  
her shoulder. "Just the knife." 

"JUST the knife?" He raised his eyebrows at her. "How  
deep is that?" He winced at the sight of the knife still  
embedded deeply in her shoulder. It didn't appear to  
be bleeding profusely, but the skin puckered around the  
knife in the most lurid way imaginable. 

"Two and a half, maybe three inches. No arteries knicked.  
It'll just leave one hell of a scar. And it hurts. A lot."  
She looked down at the wound herself.

"Do I need to pull it out?" Mulder asked, in spite of his  
queasiness. He was suddenly white, secretly hoping she  
would say 'no'. 

"Its going to bleed like a son of a bitch as soon as we  
do. I don't have anything to bandage it with, so leave  
it for now." Scully turned to check on Lisa, who was  
quietly watching the two of them. She didn't seem to be  
hearing much of anything, though, her eyes distant and  
watery. 

"Lisa, are you ok?" Scully spoke to the other woman  
gently, and Mulder marvelled at her level of caring, in  
spite of the ghastly wound she'd suffered at the hands  
of the man lying just a couple feet from them. The man  
who'd happened to married to the woman in question.

Lisa nodded, but tears coursed down her cheeks  
uncontrollably. "I'm sorry, Dani. I'm so sorry..." 

Suddenly, Mulder could hear faint sirens in the distance.  
Even from inside the building, they could hear the echo  
of noise bouncing off of emptiness. It was a different  
sort of noise. More than likely, someone had reported the  
gunshots fired. 

"Where do we go to wait for Skinner?" Scully asked him. 

"It sounds like we're not going to have to. The cavalry  
has arrived." Mulder sighed and sat down beside her,  
seemingly resigned. 

"They're going to arrest us." Scully stated matter of  
factly. 

"They're going to arrest ME, and take you to the hospital.  
There's no sense in running. Skinner's going to have to  
bail us out of this anyway." Mulder snaked his arms around  
her shoulder, unnoticing the wistful stare from the woman  
across the room. 

"Then I suppose you won't mind if I take a little nap."  
Scully could feel the adrenaline releasing her from its  
grip, while shock slowly took over. Suddenly, it was very  
difficult to keep her eyes open. 

 

\---------------------------------------

 

While Skinner and Mulder quietly bickered, Scully turned over  
to peer out the window. They were finally on the plane, headed  
home after two solid days of legal rigamarole. It hadn't been  
nearly so easy as one might have thought to get them both out  
of Puerto Rico. A local agency doesn't find four Americans in  
an abandoned building, two with guns, on dead, and one stabbed  
and fail to ask any questions. 

Skinner's diplomacy and proof of their identities had managed  
to keep them out of jail cells, just barely. After two days of  
armed Puerto Rican guards, questioning, poking, prodding and  
the joy of having a switchblade pulled out of her, Scully was  
more than ready to head home. Lisa Accardi hadn't been quite  
so lucky. She wasn't a Federal Agent, and she had shot a man.  
She would have to wait on the island until extradition papers  
were in order. Now that they were on the plane, Scully sighed  
at the hushed conversation she was very obviously not part of  
taking place next to her. 

It had been especially joyful enduring the stares through the  
airport, and now on the plane. A small woman with a sling, a  
widened, blue jaw, and a pretty damned good shiner walking  
through the terminal. She almost chuckled at the attention she'd  
drawn. Her mother would be notified of what happened. She  
couldn't wait for the lecture she'd receive from either her  
Mother or Brother, Bill. One of them would do it, and though  
they were well-meaning, she didn't need anyone else to tell her  
how bat-shit crazy she was. She already knew. 

She watched the pink evening clouds below her, lighting the  
sky in a magical glow. She was too tired to feel airsick, which  
wasn't an entirely bad thing. Her thoughts went back to the  
personal ramifications of the case. Having had virtually no  
alone time, Mulder and Scully hadn't discussed their relationship  
developments at all. It was almost as though nothing had happened,  
and if she was at all honest with herself, it was comforting to  
feel as though it was just another desperate dream. 

She didn't like the messiness of the situation, the weight of  
their irresponsibility, or the great looming shadow that was her  
future. What in the hell had she been thinking, getting involved  
with a man knowing full well the uncertainty of it all? Even worse  
that the man was Mulder. She couldn't decide if she was more  
afraid of the inkling of hope she'd given him, or the utterly  
irrational, slap-happy sense of hope he'd given her.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

"Were you planning on telling me what's going on with you, or are  
we just going to pretend like a whole bunch of shit didn't go down  
in the last few days?" At least he waited until they were enclosed  
in her apartment before letting it all loose. 

Apparently, he'd done his own contemplating on their trip home.  
Skinner seated firmly between them, talking hadn't been much of an  
option. And when they didn't talk, paranoia became a palpable force  
in the Mulder-Scully relationship. Once again, Scully thought, 'Yes,  
we are fucked up'. 

"There's nothing 'going on' with me, Mulder. You know damn well we  
couldn't discuss anything with Skinner there." Scully raised her  
eyebrows at him while she lowered herself onto her couch. She  
really just wanted to strip down to nothing and fall asleep in her  
bathtub. Instead, she watched Mulder pace. 

"That's not it, and you know it. You haven't even looked at me,  
Scully. I asked you if this is something we were to forget about, and  
you told me no. So, what gives?" He waved his arms in frustration. 

She rubbed her face, not caring if she smeared her makeup. She'd  
barely put any on that morning, anyway. There was no hope of  
covering the bruises. "I don't know, Mulder..." She sighed. "I got on  
that plane, and had time to think by myself, and..." 

His eyes flared. "And now you regret it? Is that what you're telling  
me?" 

Scully chuckled, which seemed to enrage him more. "Its hard to tell  
you anything when you won't actually let me get a word in, Mulder.  
I'm dying. Its hard for me to say those words, but they're true, no  
matter how much neither of us want to believe otherwise. I need you  
to understand that." 

"I already told you... None of that matters." His gaze softened. 

"Yes, you did. And I believe you. But it matters to me, Mulder. It  
bothers me that one day you're going to have to deal with my... loss.  
And I'm not going to have one Goddamned bit of control over it." She  
was mortified to realize that tears were rolling unchecked down her  
cheeks. It wasn't often that she couldn't control them. "And I'm  
going to have to watch you deal with it..."

He was to the couch before she could think of continuing. He flung  
his arms around her with a freeness that made her heart soar. Why  
couldn't she just allow herself to be lost in the beauty of him?  
Why did she have to ruin everything with her neurotic need to  
rationalize?

"I told you we would find a way, Scully." His nose was buried in her  
hair. She would make an appointment to release herself of the weave  
within a couple days. She would be Scully again. For now, the long  
cascade was secured in a messy ponytail, but it didn't stop him  
from tangling his fingers into it, desperately searching for her  
scalp. "I still believe that we will find a way." 

She didn't move from his tight embrace. "What if its all a fantasy,  
Mulder? I'm so damned scared, I can barely function anymore." 

"Me, too." He was speaking around his own tears. "We just have to hold  
on." 

"And in the meantime?" She sniffed. "What about you and me...? I'm so  
tired of running from my fears, Mulder." 

"Let's make an agreement." He pushed her away slightly so he could  
look into her face. "From here on out, we live every day as though  
its our last. Not yours, not mine; Ours. The rest... we can play that  
by ear."

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

It was a deserted night in the pool room of the Penninsula Hotel, just  
as it had been the last time she was there. Unlike her last visit,  
however, Scully wasn't filled with the sense of restless anxiety that  
had plagued her. She simply sat in the hot tub, head full of nothing in  
particular, and drinking in the beauty of the room. The beauty of  
life. She couldn't recall the last time she'd looked upon her life with  
thankfulness. 

"This is how its supposed to be." 

Scully startled at the voice, and turned to see the familiar face. The  
woman she'd met only once, yet thought about frequently since that  
one meeting. 

"Roberta." Scully smiled. The woman was dressed in the same robe and  
swimsuit as last time, and she worked herself into the hot tub with  
the same easy proficiency. 

Scully felt instantly comforted in the presence of the older woman,  
whose warm smile and aura managed to embrace her just as well as a  
friendly set of arms. She continued to smile her appreciation.

"You're still here." Scully pointed out, and hung her head. "I'm sorry  
I ran out on you. Before."

"Oh, sweetheart..." Roberta waded across the hot tub to sit next to  
Scully. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Life handed  
you a terribly difficult lot. Sometimes it gets to be too much. I  
understand." 

Scully nodded. "What you said... it helped me a lot. Helped me cope  
with some things." 

"I'm glad." Roberta's smile was radiant, suddenly glowing in a way  
that made Scully look twice. There was something different about the  
light in the room. "That's why I'm here. Sometimes people just need  
a nudge in the right direction, is all." 

"I don't understand." Scully knitted her brow. 

"You're asleep, Hon. When you wake up, you may or may not remember  
this conversation, but please know that the love and light remains  
with you. I am only here to help you find yourself."

Scully reeled, looking around the room. Suddenly, she rememberd that  
it had been weeks since she'd been there. She had no reason to  
return. She was, indeed, in the midst of a most extraordinary dream.  
"Was I dreaming last time?" 

Roberta chuckled. "No. You were perfectly awake. I needed to meet you  
in a way that you could accept. I know you, sweetheart. You won't  
remember me now, but our souls have known each other for a very long  
time. You needed to see me with your very own eyes. I'm sorry life's  
been so difficult, but please remember what I said to you before. It  
will all work out. Just keep your faith close, Dana. And that man of  
yours, of course." 

"That man of mine... He's pretty ok, isn't he?" Scully smiled wanly. 

"Let him help you. Your destiny is closer than you think, Dana." 

And with that, Scully was alone, yet somehow lighter than she'd felt  
in a year.

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

7 Months Later

 

Skinner was quiet while he walked to the hospital room door. He  
looked left and right, wary of nurses waiting to shoo him away from  
the resting patient. He brought flowers with him. He hadn't known to  
bring them before. At the sight of her family flocked around her,  
he'd become skittish and begged off. 

No longer able to sleep, barely able to contain his excited heart,  
he'd dragged himself up and back to the hospital. A 24 hour grocery  
store had supplied his generic-looking flowers, but he didn't care.  
It was the thought that counted, and it was an after-thought at  
that. 

Assured that no one was watching, Skinner slowly pushed her room  
door open, careful to make no sound. He wasn't sure why he was there.  
He knew she would be sleeping. Somehow, he wanted to prove to himself  
that it was true. Over time, she would be whole again, she would  
come back to work, and dazzle his life one day at a time. He wanted  
to be sure it wasn't just one more lie in the grand scheme of things. 

The room was dim, a small lamp on in the corner, but it failed to  
light the room's occupants with any proficiency. The sight of the  
body slumped over on the far side of the bed surprised him, but it  
shouldn't have. Mulder looked like he'd been dragged to hell and  
back, and Skinner knew with absolute certainty the man had been.  
He was a bedraggled soldier, at the end of the battle, faithfully  
resting at the feet of his charge. 

For her part, Scully didn't look the picture of health. It would be  
some time before that lustrous skin and echo of life returned to  
her in earnest. Skinner allowed himself to sigh his anxiety, his  
body deflating in the comfort of Scully's hospital room. He walked  
to the window, where several cards and flower arrangements sat, and  
left his mediocre bouquet in absolute quiet. Somehow, the cards and  
balloons seemed out of place; a little too cheerful for the tense  
charade all their lives had become. They were a reminder of what  
Scully's life might have been like had she never met Mulder. 

When he turned around, Skinner noticed the arrangement of their  
bodies. Mulder lay with his face pressed into her hip, his lips  
puckered as though he'd fallen asleep mid-kiss. Her hand lay twined  
in his hair while his own hand rested comfortably on her knee. 

He didn't wake them. Skinner left, as silently as he came, and  
with utter certainty that many dreams had come true that night. 

 

\-------------------------------------------------

The End!

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